The Lowdown (Dale Conley Action Thrillers Series Book 3) Page 14

  When she looked back, her eyes met his with that intensity again, and she touched his arm. Her fingers were on his forearm. They remained there.

  He looked down. Fingers, so small. Pale. Freckles. There was a slight movement in them, casual, almost imperceptible, as they messed with his forearm hairs, the same hairs that had brushed against her skin earlier.

  Her other hand came to his shoulder.

  Something was happening. Potentially dangerous. But still he put his hand on her hip. That curve. His hand rested there so perfectly.

  She was standing closer to him now, and she leaned up to look him in the eyes. He could smell her. Her hair smelled a certain way, and it was right below him now, filling his nostrils.

  Smell—the human sense most tied to emotion. The only sense that skips right over reason and logic and goes straight to the amygdala. The primitive brain. The emotional brain. Her smell was intoxicating.

  She continued to look deep into him. “I didn’t throw you away, Dale. We just met at the wrong time.”

  When he had been with Allie, the voice inside his head had worked at a fever pitch and around the clock. This isn’t real, the voice had told him when she started planning international trips for the two of them after their second date. No one falls in love that fast. After only a few more dates, when pictures of him started appearing on the walls of her apartment and she gave him a key, the voice said, Dale, no. What are you doing? This isn’t genuine. It’s fickle. A couple months into the relationship, when he found out that he was her eighteenth adult boyfriend in her ninth year of adulthood, the voice said, See? What more proof do you need? You’re an amusement to her. But Dale didn’t listen. And a month later, when Allie even referred to herself as a “serial monogamist,” Dale still pulled a Rod Stewart and tried to find a reason to believe that her feelings for him were legitimate. It was at this point that the voice in his head silenced, leaving him to his self-prescribed doom.

  But now, as Dale stood with his hand on Allie’s hip in their office at a New Orleans police station, the voice was back. And it was screaming. It warned him about what would happen. It reminded him of how he’d felt. The pain. The hollow loneliness. The rejection.

  As he had in the past, though, Dale didn’t listen to this voice coming from the rational side of his brain. Instead, he listened to the primitive brain. The smell. Her hair. Emotion. He looked at those blue eyes and felt that they knew now who he was. She recognized how he’d changed. There was something there. Caring. Love. She had really loved him back then too. And now life had thrust them back together.

  Dale kissed her.

  Taste and smell are interconnected. He’d smelled her hair. Now he tasted her lips, her soft tongue.

  He put his other hand on her hips. Her curves. Her arms went to his shoulders. Their passion intensified, hands moving, exploring. Her fingers dug into his back.

  This woman felt right. Up against him, in his arms. This was real.

  They pulled apart. Panting. Looking at each other. But it wasn’t a moment of reconsideration. Allie was as determined as he was. She went to the door, locked it, flipped off the lights. Dale started grabbing things from table, carefully moving them to the boxes against the walls. In a movie, he would passionately shove the items to the floor and toss Allie upon the surface. But both of them respected history too much, and Allie joined him in carefully moving the delicate, old books. She kept her eyes on him as she did so. She was still short of breath, and there was an anxious, playful smile on her face.

  The last item was removed. She rushed to him, their mouths, arms, bodies colliding.

  And now Dale could toss her upon the table.

  Little flashes. Small moments of time slipping away, escaping into history, gone forever.

  His hands were upon her body. Her touch, so electric. The eyes, so much in them that he’d forgotten. Lines of light coming through the blinds, slicing the curves of her body. Subtle changes, differences from what he had known. Her hips. Her sides. This was real. Her eyes locked in on him. It was real. It really was. The movement. Rhythm. Her smile, a small laugh of joy just before she enjoyed herself the most, slipping into ecstasy. He’d wondered about that laugh when they were together. Had it meant that this was nothing but fun to her? More fickleness? No, this was real. She was simply happy. She was looking at him. Blue eyes. Telling him that she’d missed him. So much. So, so much.

  Dale’s eyes snapped open. He looked at the clock on the wall, just visible in the darkness. They’d been asleep for seven minutes. He’d set a mental alarm for ten minutes, but an idea about the case woke him early.

  Allie was against him, naked, lying on his chest, her thigh draped over his legs, hand on his shoulder. Warm. Soft.

  “Allie. Allie, wake up.”

  Allie blinked, squinting. Her wild hair was tussled.

  Dale gently moved her then stood up and grabbed a clean photocopy of Dylan Mercer’s map.

  A visual had exploded in Dale’s mind. He and Allie had been thinking of the four locations as a line down the coast. But what if they weren’t in a line? What if they were a diamond? A long, stretched-out diamond.

  The two middle locations—Pensacola and Naval Live Oaks—were so close together that you could almost consider them one dot on the map given the extreme distance between the western- and easternmost locations, New Orleans and Marianna. But in reality Naval Live Oaks and the spot that Dylan Mercer had marked as “Pensacola” sat one on top of the other at a slanted angle. If these two locations were considered to be in north-south alinement, and New Orleans and Marianna were in east-west alignment …

  “X marks the spot, Allie! Look at this.”

  Dale grabbed a ruler from the desk and put it on the map. He drew a line from the Pensacola marker to the Naval Live Oaks marker then he drew another line between the markers for New Orleans and Marianna. He stabbed his finger at the point where the two lines intersected. It was right over downtown Pensacola.

  “Luanne Mercer said something about her husband going to a cemetery in Pensacola this morning, to find coordinates. There’s a historic cemetery smack dab in downtown Pensacola. Right about there,” he said, tapping his finger where the lines crossed. “It dates all the way back to the eighteenth century. That’s where Mercer went. Luanne said he wasn’t a true believer in his group’s cause. Mercer must have used this drug operation as a front, having his minions find symbols for him. We put the pressure on him, and he had to dump all his drugs at once. That’s why he was in such a hurry to find the coordinates this morning. Mercer’s getting out while he can with his partner—a land developer. They’re going to dig the gold up then take the money and run. He’ll be going after the gold tonight after they dump the final drugs. If we don’t catch him now … we never will. Allie, I hate to say this, but put your clothes back on. We need to talk to Percy. And then we gotta get to Pensacola.”

  Allie sighed and reached for her bra, which was on the floor. “You sure do know how to make a girl feel special, Dale.”

  He grinned.

  She paused before putting on her bra. “This was …”

  Dale nodded. “Yeah. It was.”

  Chapter 35

  Dale and Allie pushed through the crowded main area of the police station, headed to the front door. They’d been told that Percy was outside.

  “We’ll take Arancia,” Dale said. “I’ll need your help in the cemetery, so when we—”

  He was cut off by Detective Snyder, who stepped in front of him. He looked even more stressed than usual. “Agent Conley, we got word from one of the undercovers in Mobile. The drugs are starting to hit the streets.”

  It was happening. Dale had to hurry.

  “Call Mobile. The mayor’s office. They haven’t been taking us seriously.”

  Snyder nodded and left.

  Dale and Allie dashed to the front door.

  Dale saw Percy sitting at a bench that faced the street. He was stooped over, elbows on his knees. Dale
and Allie sprinted up to him.

  “Percy,” Dale said. “Did you hear?”

  Percy nodded, didn’t look up. He chewed his gum very slowly.

  “Percy … what’s going on?”

  He continued to look forward as he answered. “Erv. We had another argument. He ridiculed me for working with you. Called me a house … N word. I don’t care about that. But then he called the two of you crackers. I raised my hand to him. I told him he can call me whatever nasty name he wanted, but I wasn’t going to let him insult two good people like you. And … he took off, hasn’t come back.”

  “Oh, Percy,” Dale said. He was a little frustrated at Percy for letting a spat with his son interfere with his work at this critical juncture. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s left before. He’s a young man.”

  Percy shook his head. “This was delivered to the station.”

  He handed Dale a note.

  I have your boy. Bourbon Street. Sundown. Jesse James

  Allie read over Dale’s shoulder. She looked at him.

  Dale lowered the note. “Percy …”

  He still hadn’t looked up from the street. “I don’t know why I raised my hand to him. I swatted his butt when he was a kid, but I’d never hit him.” He looked up at Dale finally. His eyes were desperate. “You know that, right?”

  “Of course, partner.”

  Percy looked back to the ground. “He told me that you don’t raise a hand to a grown man. And he’s right. I’m not letting him become a man. I’m holding on too tight.”

  Dale had seen more than his fair share of people crack under the intense pressure of the cases he investigated. He normally wouldn’t have thought Percy would be the type.

  But, then, he’d never had a partner whose child was abducted before.

  Dale was in a tough fix. He had to hightail it to Pensacola if he was going to catch the man behind everything. But the rest of the drugs were being released, and his partner, the other person running the task force they’d spent weeks organizing, was a broken man. He needed to be extra diplomatic.

  He knelt down. “Percy. Listen to me. I have to get to Pensacola. I have one shot to catch Jesse James’ boss. Allie’s coming with me. I need her expertise. You’ve got to help me out here. The drugs are already hitting the streets. I know it’s tough, but until you meet Jesse James tonight, you have to do your damnedest running this task force. We need maximum police presence in all four cities. Someone has to coordinate all of it. Can you help me out?”

  Percy slowly looked up. His eyes met Dale’s. He straightened up, sat taller. His eyes focused, emotion giving way to purpose. His jaws moved as he started to chew his gum. And he nodded.

  Percy was a professional. Dale knew he’d do what was right. He put a hand on Percy’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

  He then looked at Allie and flicked his eyes toward Arancia, parked in the rear lot under the shade of a tree, and the two of them ran toward her.

  Chapter 36

  The lights were off in the Grizzly’s windowless office. The small television was on a wheeled cart, and it put out flickering light that cast long shadows from all the chess pieces. He sat at his desk, watching the program. He held a piece in his hand—a queen. He rolled it over his fingers slowly. It was from one of his favorite sets. It was carved from obsidian. For once, the Grizzly wasn’t smiling. Rhino stood behind him.

  The newscaster was finishing up her report. She’d told how the DEA agent’s task force was scouring the streets in the targeted areas within New Orleans, Biloxi, Mobile, and Pensacola. They’d seized massive amounts of the drugs already, arrested several dealers. And there had been no new deaths.

  Word had spread.

  Another story began. Something lighter. A feel-good piece about a dog. The Grizzly reached out and turned down the volume.

  “You figure the DEA will give you a medal?” Rhino joked.

  The Grizzly still didn’t smile. “It wasn’t charity that made me tell the other drug lords what I learned from Jesse James. Purely business. And it’s still early. People will die tonight, and some of that blood will be on my hands.” He watched the silent TV for a moment, rolling the queen over his fingers. “I could have gone to the agents as soon as James contacted me. They’ll figure that out.” He paused again. “And they’ll also figure out that I double-crossed them.”

  Chapter 37

  It was a three-hour drive to Pensacola. Dale had Arancia’s emergency light hanging from the rearview mirror, and the siren was blaring. The V8 roared. The traffic continued to heed way, and he pushed the speedometer well past the speed limit. This cut into the three hours, but still it was a long trip.

  Allie ran her hand along the dash. “Oh, yes, Arancia,” she said with a tone of remembrance. She’d spent plenty of time in that passenger seat. “Your orange, rare, Italian ‘spy’ car. Very inconspicuous.” She rolled her eyes.

  Dale chuckled.

  He had been putting together the pieces of the case in his head, but part of him wanted to talk to Allie about what had happened, their time together in the station an hour earlier. It had been real. And Dale wasn’t one to do those sort of things willy-nilly.

  Sure, he had a well-deserved reputation as a ladies man, and his work as a federal agent had given people reason to label him as a James Bond type, the insinuation being that Dale had a life of similar promiscuity. But Dale didn’t mess with the power of such actions. Certainly he went on lots of dates and was quite addicted to beautiful women—their company, their touch—but he respected the power that a full-on moment had. And he also respected the consequences. In real life, James Bond would be a petri dish of venereal disease, and he’d have kids spread out over the continents. Dale had zero desire for either kids or venereal disease.

  The truth was, it had been a while.

  And he was glad it was Allie.

  But he had to put all of this on the back-burner of his mind and focus on the case. Luanne Mercer had stressed that her husband was urgent about his activities today. And if Dale didn’t get the Pensacola soon, the moment to catch Mercer would be gone forever.

  “Saint Michael’s Cemetery. You’re sure that’s where he’ll be?” Allie said.

  “I’m certain that’s the location, but Dylan Mercer won’t be there. Luanne said he was getting the coordinates this morning. He’ll be long gone. We need to search that cemetery to find the coordinates and track him down. His Second KGC is crumbling before his eyes. He’ll need to get that gold and get out of town immediately. Hell, he’ll probably try to skip the country.”

  Allie sighed and settled back into the seat. “It’s always an adventure being with you, Dale.”

  She smiled at him.

  By the way she said “being with you,” Dale felt encouraged. It was validation of something he was feeling. Dale wasn’t a normal person dreaming of a white picket fence, a Labrador, and 2.3 children. He had a difficult time even picturing himself as a husband. But he knew there was a future with Allie. He could figure it out. He enjoyed figuring things out as he went.

  He smiled back.

  She put her left hand on Arancia’s shift knob, spread out her fingers. It was an invitation to hold her hand on the stick as they drove, like they had in the past.

  Dale put his hand on hers.

  Chapter 38

  Luanne stepped through the office door and approached the counter. The smell of school was thick in the air. Sally, the elementary’s plump, jolly secretary, sat behind the counter, partially hidden by a fern. She smiled at Luanne as she approached. But there was also a quizzical look in Sally’s eyes.

  “Help you, Luanne?”

  Luanne put her arms on the counter. “I need to pull my boys out of class. Family emergency.”

  Again, the quizzical look. “Well … Tyler’s not here.”

  A shiver went over Luanne’s skin. “Where is he?”

  Sally paused. “Your husband picked him up. An hour ago.” She took a binder from her desk an
d flipped a page. “For his dentist appointment.”

  Dark thoughts fell onto Luanne. Tyler had no appointment.

  Sally’s jovial smile turned to concern. “You still want me to get Caleb?”

  “Yes,” Luanne said. “And hurry.”

  Chapter 39

  The police station was chaotic. Detective Snyder approached Percy.

  “Okay, that’s three cars we have south of Rampart,” Snyder said. “I can get two more after six. And how many do you need to the east?”

  Percy looked out into the madness surrounding him. Cops bustling everywhere, all hands tackling the Great Contingency. Fielding media calls, coordinating resources.

  “As many as you can spare,” Percy said.

  Snyder nodded and quickly walked away.

  What was the next step? He’d already coordinated with Biloxi. Mobile wasn’t sure they had the resources. He would need to call them again and—

  A thought intruded.

  Erv.

  With Jesse Richter. The man who had brought this chaos, the one who had hurt so many. Percy’s heart ached. Literally. His chest felt tight, and cold ideas and images burned him from the inside out.

  He thought about what Dale said, about how Percy needed to stay focused if he was going to be able to help Ervin and all the others. He needed to call Mobile. That’s what he had to do.

  Anything to distract himself for a few more minutes.

  Chapter 40

  It was 4:30 by the time Dale and Allie arrived at Saint Michael’s Cemetery. Like Saint Louis Cemetery No. 2 that Dale had been to recently, it was old and sat near a raised highway, which put out a constant hum of traffic. But unlike Saint Louis, Saint Michael’s graves were the traditional, in-ground type. It was a beautiful spot with stately tombs and monuments of varied heights and sizes. Majestic, ancient trees spread their wide branches out over the graves, and the occasional palm tree reminded you that you were in Florida.