Chapter Three
The next morning, Luke cornered Bill in the coffee room and got right to the point. “Fine. I’ll do it. What have you come up with?”
When Bill faced him, complexion pale, and eyes bloodshot, Luke took a step toward him.
“Hey, you okay? What happened?”
“The mayor’s daughter slipped into a coma last night. They don’t know if she’ll make it.”
“Christ… so we have no idea who sold her the drugs.”
“Jesus, Luke. The girl’s family is going through hell, and you’re worried that you can’t get a confession from her?”
“Hey, it’s their job to worry about her health. It’s ours to stop this shit from happening again. I’m sorry the kid got caught up in it, but there are a lot more of them on the streets risking their lives every day. School is out in a couple of weeks, and then it’ll be even crazier. Tell me what you got.”
For the next few days, Luke and his crew set up the sting where they could take him down publicly. They had the newspapers involved, and before he knew it, they’d caught him with a shitload of drugs, and he was out on his ass.
Alone again, feeling like a failure though he knew it was all a prearranged setup, he still had to fight off the hopelessness he experienced when he watched the news or scrolled online. The knowing that no one gave a good-goddamn about him settled in the pit of his stomach and refused to leave. Would it always be this way? Goddammit, would he never catch a break?
Needing to reach out to the one person who cared, he visited his old guitar teacher, Hamilton. That black man could play with the angels… he was that good. And the only person Luke had kept in touch with from the past.
Over the years, when Luke would get in the mood, he’d pull out his guitar and sing until he became hoarse. He had a love for most of the modern country music he heard on the local radio channels. Therefore, he had a good inventory of up-to-date songs he could use in this undercover assignment. Only thing he needed was an invitation to play in the club where they’d decided Annette had been last seen.
He pulled his truck up to the rickety ancient house that Ham still lived in. The old man had almost lost it a few years back but unknown to him, Luke had learned about his troubles and had come to his rescue, taking care of the bigger portion of his mortgage payments so Ham could cover the smaller amount left over. It had taken considerable efforts to get the bank to go along with this subterfuge, but his badge had finally gotten him what he’d demanded.
Because he couldn’t stay away from the nightlife scene, Ham often took a bus downtown and would jam with some of the bands playing the taverns that welcomed him. Luke knew that if anyone could get him a break, his talented friend had the best chance.
When Luke knocked at the door, he called out as well. “Hey old man. Get off your butt and answer the door.”
He knew Ham often ignored people knocking. Told him one time that the only people who come to visit were folks trying to sell him something or his brother’s family checking to see if he’d died yet so they could get his house.
The door opened faster than he’d expected. “You gonna stay out there in the hot sun all day, boy? Get your scrawny white ass in here and give me hug.”
Luke stepped forward and got swung up in arms still strong enough to make him wince. “Hey, man, watch the back.”
“What, you got skinny again? They got you working those undercover assignments that make you go all cold and hard, lose weight, and get meaner than you already are?”
Luke laughed and hid his shyness by turning around to close the door. This jovial man could turn him into a marshmallow with just one hug. “Kinda. Healing nicely but still a bit sore.”
“Healing? What’d they do to you now?”
“Got a bit rough on the takedown. I’m fine. The ribs take a bit longer to heal.”
“Christ almighty, Luke. How many times I gotta tell ya? Get out of the law business and come back to the music you love to play. I could get you a gig just like that… you want.”
While he talked, Hamilton led them to the kitchen where he began gathering the makings of a hot meal. Big pieces of fried chicken appeared from the fridge along with leftover potatoes and bags of various veggies.
Within minutes, Luke had the salad ingredients in front of him while Ham had the chicken on a tray to go into the toaster oven and the potatoes in a bowl for the microwave.
Knowing he had to make these next few sentences as real as possible, he began, his voice raw. “You got your wish, Ham. Looks like I’ve been kicked out of the FBI. They found a stash of drugs in my vehicle and gave me my walking papers.”
“Bullshit.”
“True.”
“You was framed then. No ways you selling them drugs. No ways.” Hamilton shook his head, his gray frizzy hair tight to his scalp, and his brown eyes wide with certainty.
Luke’s heart somersaulted. He grinned at Ham. Shaking his head, he shot back, “You crazy old dude. How come you have such faith in this skinny white boy you’re always giving shit to?”
Hamilton laughed hard at Luke’s way of wording his question. “Cause you might be mean on the outside, but you’re pure mush to anyone you care for. I knows that from experience. You’d never sell that shit. You hate it… hate seeing what it does to folks.”
“Except they caught me red-handed. So now I gotta go back to doing what you’re always after me to do. Get back on stage.”
“True dat?”
“Yep.”
“It’s undercover… right? A special assignment. They bastards don’t even let you heal from the last one you was on and now they’s after you again. Luke, my boy, how many times I have ta tell you – you gotta learn to say no.”
Luke’s heart evened out and joy hammered through his defenses. He should have known Ham wouldn’t buy the story. He chuckled to cover up his sudden surge of gentleness. “All that nagging? Can’t count that high? Truth is, there’s shit on the streets now killing people… kids, lots of them. Someone’s selling the crap, and they don’t care who buys it.”
Hamilton’s face fell. “Yeah, I heard about it. Not good, boy. Not good. Too many of the bands are deep in the rotten stuff.” The old man’s voice became nostalgic. “Used to be, the drugs would give one a high and sweet music would follow. Not so much now. This garbage is a game changer. Many are messed up so bad they can’t keep their jobs.”
“Which gets me back to what I wanted to ask. Do you know of any musicians looking for someone like me?”
“Happens, I do. These guys are good. Fired their lead vocal a while back. Couldn’t stay clean. You want I should introduce you?”
“Yep. I’ll go downtown with you later.” Luke reached into the cupboard for plates and mugs for sweet tea. “Goddamn that smells good, Ham.”
“Suppose to. Sit your skinny ass down now and enjoy a home-cooked meal for a change.”