—
As he slept, Rafe went about his work rummaging through the sparse and disjointed network of the Atlas Finders, otherwise known as the small office of Rollie Tabor, PI. He wormed his way into the computer of a part-time secretary named Susie, and there he found some photos. One was of her and her boss, Mr. Tabor.
Hours later, Bannick looked into the smiling face of Rollie and easily matched the photo with the one taken by Norris Ozment’s security camera and also the one from Dunlap’s fake driver’s license. It confirmed what he already knew: Rollie Tabor, a run-of-the-mill private dick in Mobile, had been hired by someone to dig through Bannick’s quite dirty laundry.
But Rafe could find no other clues with Atlas. It would be necessary to hack into Tabor’s cell phone, a task Bannick was not quite up to. With diligent study and plenty of practice, he had become an accomplished amateur hacker of computers, but the smartphones were another story. He was still learning but wasn’t quite there.
It was still dark when he finally ventured from his bunker at just minutes before 6:00 a.m. on Saturday morning. The twenty-four-hour gym was deserted, as was the parking lot. He was eager to get home and left in a hurry, the only car on the road. Turning onto the street, he caught himself glancing into the rearview, then he almost laughed at the absurdity.
Twenty minutes later he drove through the gates of his well-protected community in Cullman and parked in front of his garage as the sun peeked through the clouds in the east. He turned off the engine, took his smartphone, turned off the security system, and checked the surveillance cameras and recent footage. Assured that all was safe, he finally got out and went inside where he flipped on lights and made a pot of coffee. He watched it brew and tried to shake off the cobwebs from the martinis. He poured a cup and slowly walked through his den to the front door. He opened it, took a step onto his porch, looked up and down the street, then reached into the small mailbox mounted beside the door.
Another plain white envelope, no return address.
it seemed harmless enough
another water park at the beach
bulldoze, burn, and build
another pot of gold, just within reach
you tried to hide in the dark
your good name nowhere to be seen
cowering behind your partners
directing the little scheme
oh the beauty of a free press
to find the truth, expose the lies
keep the crooks out of office
keep the judges fair and wise
your loss to the old one hurt badly
and killed your enormous pride
so you blamed me for your corruption
and relished the day I died.
24
The lazy Saturday morning was interrupted twice before Lacy made it to the coffee pot. The first call awakened her at three minutes after eight. Caller unknown, potential spam. In other words, don’t answer. But something said do it, and if it happened to be a robocall she could simply hang up, as always.
“Good morning, Lacy,” Jeri said softly.
A flash of anger passed quickly as Lacy controlled herself. “Good morning, Jeri. What’s the occasion?”
“Just thinking about you, a lot, these days. How are you?”
“Well, I was sleeping, Jeri, before you called. It’s Saturday, a day off, and I’m not working today. I thought I had explained this.”
“I’m sorry, Lacy,” Jeri said, in a tone that conveyed anything but remorse. “Why does it have to be considered work? Why can’t we talk as friends?”
“Because we’re not friends yet, Jeri. We are acquaintances who met for the first time about a month ago. We may become friends one day, once the work that brought us together is finished, but we’re not there yet.”
“I see.”
“The word ‘friend’ gets tossed around loosely, don’t you think?”
“I suppose.”
“And whatever the reason for this call, it’s not about friendship. It’s probably on the business side.”
“It is, Lacy. And I’m sorry to bother you.”
“It’s Saturday morning, Jeri, and I was sleeping.”
“Got it. Look, I’ll hang up now, but first let me say what I want. Okay?”
“Sure.”
“There is a good chance that Bannick knows about the complaint and knows that you’re digging through his past. I can’t prove this, but I have come to believe that he has some type of superpower, extrasensory, something. I don’t know. But he is extremely bright and diligent, and well, I guess I might be a bit paranoid. I’ve been living with him for so long I just assume that he’s everywhere. Be careful, Lacy. If he knows you’re on his trail he might do anything.”