have me put in my place,” Jack replied. “Sure, if it’ll make you feel better.”
Connie snorted. “I’d only feel better if you were assigned to highway patrol — and even then I’d wonder every time a body turned up alongside the highway.”
Chapter Nine
Jack returned to the office and met up with Laura, after which they went to Staff Sergeant Rose Wood’s office. Laura had already briefed Rose up to the point where Jack had gone with Connie to the hospital, but Rose wanted to hear it again from Jack, starting at the beginning.
Lack of sleep coupled with feelings of depression and anger caused Jack to rephrase and repeat his words a few times, but Rose got a clear picture.
“So what do you plan to do?” she asked.
“Carry on as before,” Jack replied.
“I’ve seen how you’ve carried on before,” Rose said quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve never lost an informant before, have you?” Rose asked.
“Never.”
“It shows — and you know what I mean. I don’t want you taking the law into your own hands.”
“You sound like Connie.” Jack was exasperated. “I went over the same thing with her. It’s her case — I know that. I’ll stick to working on the bikers and leave Dwayne to her.”
“Swear to God?”
Jack allowed his anger to spill out in his voice. “You know I’m an atheist. What’re you doing, testing to see how truthful I’m being?”
Rose stared at him. “Yes … and I’m sorry. Go home and get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow. You need to settle down and get your mind focused.”
Jack glared in response, but realized he couldn’t deny what she said. “I am tired,” he admitted. “I’ll go home, but first I should call Sammy in Drug Section to let him know, in case anything else comes in on the wire.”
“Swear on a three-olive martini that you’ll go home?” Rose asked.
Jack gave a lopsided grin as he stood up. “Swearing on that means more to me than some Bible.”
“Out of curiosity, have you ever even read the Bible?”
“Nah, I’m more of a non-fiction kind of reader.”
Jack returned to his desk and called Sammy. He told him how he and Laura had turned Larry and Dwayne into informants and the details of Dwayne’s call to Jack.
“Man, what a horrible thing to hear,” Sammy said sombrely. “What do you want me to do?”
“There’s nothing we can do as far as Dwayne goes,” Jack replied. “That’ll be up to Connie.” At least, for now.
“We were going to set up on Banjo later today,” Sammy said.
“Good. The GDs should be picking up weed from two other grow-ops tonight. Banjo will be involved, along with the other two prospects, Kyle Fennel and Arnold Hoster.”
“Yeah, I’ve got their pictures from the reports you gave me.”
“It’d be nice to discover where they press it and brick up,” Jack said.
“For sure. Later on, if we could get video and audio in the place, it’d make for strong evidence. I also want to get a sample of the dope before it leaves, but so far it doesn’t look good. Either Bob or Roxie or both have been staying close to home. Neal comes and goes at all hours. What with their dog, I doubt we’ll get into the truck.”
“Maybe you’ll have more luck with the prospects,” Jack said. “In the meantime I need to get some sleep. If anything interesting happens, give me a call.”
“Will do — and Jack, I’m sorry about Dwayne. I know you’re really protective of your sources. All I can say is … well, shit happens. It doesn’t sound like there was anything you could’ve done different.”
“It’ll bother me a lot less when I find out who did it — and justice is served.”
After arriving home late in the afternoon, Jack forced himself to stay awake until after dinner. An hour later he was brushing his teeth in preparation for bed when his phone vibrated.
It was Mack Cockerill. “What’s happening?” he asked nervously. “I heard someone ripped off Larry’s grow-op and whacked his brother.”
“I heard,” Jack said. “Homicide contacted me because I had an alert on the computer for me to be notified if Larry was ever checked.”
“I didn’t know he had a brother,” Cockerill said.
“Likewise,” Jack replied.
“You can still watch the truck. The GDs are actin’ a little paranoid, though. Neal said he’s gonna run whatever they brick up tonight over to Bob, then do the next run tomorrow — so everything’s still a go. Sounds like there’s still lots to make up for what was taken.” Cockerill hesitated a moment, then said, “You’re quiet. This doesn’t change anything, does it?”
“A murder taking place does put a different spin on things.”
“That ain’t my fault! I didn’t know that —”
“Relax,” Jack interjected. “I’m not blaming you as long as you’re straight with me.”
“I’ve been straight,” Cockerill insisted. “Tellin’ you everything.”
“I’m talking about you telling me what’s going on with your own club. You think you’re the only Satans Wrath talking?” Cockerill was the only informant Jack had in Satans Wrath, but if Cockerill believed someone else was talking, it would help ensure that he told Jack the truth and kept him up-to-date. On a psychological level, it would also ease the guy’s conscience to think someone besides him was disloyal to the club.
Cockerill appeared to mull over what Jack said. “I didn’t think talking about my own club was part of the deal.”
“And I didn’t think that a guy in the grow-op you gave me would be murdered. Makes me wonder if you were trying to prevent me from doing my job.”
“I had nothing to do with it! Fuck, I want this done and over.”
“It’ll be over when I say it’s over. Keep me in the loop about everything … and I mean everything. Which means about your club, too.”
“Yeah, but my club wasn’t part of the deal!”
“Neither was murder,” Jack said angrily. “When someone is arrested for it, then we’ll talk about whether or not we’re even. In the meantime I want to know who did the rip and what you guys are doing about it.”
“We
