Chapter 7 – Philip
After I leave Haley’s dorm that evening, I get in my truck and drive straight back to the used bookstore we just visited. Thank God they’re still open. I hated seeing the look on Haley’s face when we left the store without those books she wanted so badly.
I walk into the store, pick up the set, and carry it to the checkout.
The young blonde working behind the sales counter smiles at me. “Oooh, you’re a good boyfriend.”
“Oh, yeah? What makes you say that?”
“I saw you in here earlier with your girlfriend,” she continues. “I saw how she gushed over these books. Frankly, I was surprised when she walked out without them.”
I shrug. “They’re a bit pricey, and she’s just starting college.”
The sales girl wraps the books carefully in plain brown paper and ties the bundle with a string. “She’s going to love these, and you for getting them for her.” She shakes her head. “This is totally swoonworthy, bro.”
I hand her my credit card, and she runs the transaction.
“Thanks,” I say when she hands me the wrapped bundle.
As I carry them out to my truck, I’m calculating how long it will be before I see Haley again. Probably not before our date Friday night.
I’ll just have to manage to keep them a secret until then.
* * *
Tuesday morning, as I’m sitting here in my pickup doing surveillance on a suspected corporate embezzler, I have a lot of time to think.
That’s not necessarily a good thing. I’m twenty-seven years old, and I think my biological clock has started ticking.
How else can I explain this preoccupation with wanting to settle down, get married, and start a family?
The problem is the only girl I want to do all those things with is just starting college.
She’s got years of schooling ahead of her before she’ll be ready to even think about this kind of stuff.
I suppose I could find someone closer to my own age, a woman who’s ready for these things, but I know that’s not going to happen. I’ll wait for Haley as long as it takes. When I picture my future, I picture her in it. No one else.
We’ve talked about the future and what we want, and we’re on the same page as far as marriage and kids go. It’s just a timing issue for us.
She’ll be an undergraduate for four years, and then law school is another three years.
That’s seven years of schooling. Then she’ll be starting her law career, and she probably won’t want to rush into having kids right away.
So maybe in ten years she’ll be ready to start thinking about kids.
She’ll only be twenty-eight then, still plenty of time for her, right?
I’ll be thirty-seven by then. That’s certainly not too old for me to become a dad. It just means I have a good while to wait.
And I will wait. As long as it takes. As long as she needs. Because when I close my eyes and picture my future, Haley’s at the center of it.
My attention perks up when I see my subject, Gerald Kramer, walk out of the bank where he’s a comptroller. What a surprise—the money guy is suspected of embezzling money from the bank.
I watch as he gets into his shiny black Mercedes and pulls out into traffic. After giving him a decent head start, I start my engine and ease into traffic, following him at a safe distance.
I text my boss, Jake McIntyre, to give him a heads up. This could turn out to be nothing, or it could be the break we’ve been waiting for.
Me – Kramer just left the bank. I’m following
Jake texts me back instantly.
Jake – Thx. Report back.
I continue to follow the suspect at a fair distance. My work pickup isn’t likely to attract attention. It’s designed to look like a contractor’s truck, complete with a fake painting company logo on the side panel.
When Kramer pulls into the parking lot of a seedy motel—one of those types where you rent the rooms by the hour—I hang back and pull into the parking lot of the diner adjacent to the motel.
Me – He pulled into The Moody Blue Motel.
Jake – Film everything.
Me – Roger
My dash camera is positioned perfectly to catch Kramer’s car.
I watch through a pair of binoculars as Kramer sits in his car for a good twenty minutes.
He picks up his phone a few times, but other than that, nothing happens.
There’s no chance he’s here at this rat-infested motel for legitimate business. He has to be up to something sketchy.
A moment later, someone pulls up next to him and gets out of a sleek black SUV. Holy shit! It’s Karen Meachum, the company’s CIO.
Meachum, who’s dressed in a sharp business suit, walks right past Kramer’s car without even acknowledging him. She heads directly to one of the rooms, pulls a keycard out of her pocket, opens the door, and disappears inside, leaving the door ajar.
Me – You’ll never believe this. Meachum is here, too. WTF?
Jake – You’re shitting me! I’m on my way. Don’t engage. Film it all.
Oh, I’m getting everything on my dash cam. I even caught Meachum on tape.
I’m not one bit surprised when Kramer exits his vehicle and walks into the same room Meachum entered.
A moment later, all hell breaks loose. I count five shots in less than ten seconds, and then everything goes quiet.
Me – Shots fired!
Jake – Fuck! Almost there. Call 911, but DO NOT engage! You hear me? Keep out of range.
Me – Yeah, yeah, I hear you. Calm down, boss
I call 911 and report what I’ve heard, giving them the name of the motel and the room number involved.
They want to keep me on the line, but I hang up.
Instead, I get out of my truck, armed with a handgun tucked into the back waistband of my jeans, and approach the motel from a safe angle.
Jake told me not to engage, but he didn’t say I had to sit on my thumbs and do nothing.
If somebody bolts from that room, I’ll tackle their ass to the ground and sit on them until the cops arrive.
I keep an eye on the motel room door in case anyone tries to make a run for it.
Jake pulls up beside my hiding spot in the motel parking lot. He rolls down his window. “Get in here!”
I climb into the front passenger seat of his SUV.
“What part of do not engage did you not understand?” he says. But he’s not mad at me. Not really. “Are they still in there?”
“Yep. No one has exited the room. I was ready for them if they did.”
A moment later, a police car—lights and sirens on—pulls in and parks right behind Kramer’s and Meachum’s vehicles, which are parked in front of Room 106.
The cop gets out of the car and hides behind his open door for protection. I can hear him talking on his radio, undoubtedly asking when his backup will arrive.
A few moments later, two more cruisers pull in and get into position.
One of the cops gets on a bullhorn. “Chicago PD! Come out with your hands up!” When there’s no response from the room, he repeats his instructions.
A minute later, the motel room door opens, and Meachum walks out, her hands up in the air.
“I’m guessing this means Kramer’s dead,” I say.
“Probably,” Jake says.
Three cops rush Meachum and push her face forward against the building. Two of them hold her in place while the third cuffs her.
Two other officers, with their weapons drawn, enter the motel room.
I can hear one of them yell, “Clear!”
Another calls out, “We’ve got a 10-55!”
“Yep, he’s dead,” Jake says.
One of the officers steps outside the room. “Call the coroner.”
“That went sideways fast,” Jake says as he clasps his hand on my shoulder. “Good work, Underwood.”
* * *
After I give a statement to the police, Jake and I are excused. Meachum has already been taken away to the county jail to be booked on a laundry list of charges. In the room, they find a suitcase full of cash, as well as Kramer’s bullet-riddled body.
My guess is Meachum put Kramer up to stealing from the company, and then she turned on him.
Jake and I walk back to the restaurant parking lot. He nods to the diner. “How about a debriefing?”
“Sure.” I could eat, and I’m parched.
We walk into the diner and are seated right away at a corner booth. We both order colas and burgers with fries.
“I’ve notified Shane,” Jake says as he takes a swig of his soft drink. “He wants us to meet with him later this afternoon for a debriefing.”
Our food is delivered, and we dig in.
“How’s Haley?” Jake asks. “Is she settling in to campus life?”
I nod. “She’s doing well as far as I can tell.
I’m sure it’s an adjustment for her, moving out of her mother’s house and living on her own for the first time.
Well, sort of on her own. She has a roommate.
” I chuckle. “Haley’s pre-law, and her roommate is pre-med.
They’re a perfect match. Two brainiacs.”
Jake laughs. “That reminds me of Annie, when we were in school. She was always the smartest kid in the room. She intimidated the hell out of me.” Smiling, he shakes his head, as if he’s remembering the past.
“You two were high school sweethearts, weren’t you?”
Jake nods. “Yeah. The brainiac and the brawn.” He grins. “God, I was so gone over her.”
The similarities between Jake’s relationship with Annie and mine with Haley hit me hard. “But you two broke up at the end of your senior year in school?” This is my fear. That Haley will outgrow me. That she’ll realize I’m not enough.
Jake winces. Clearly, it’s still a sore spot for him. “We did break up, but only because Annie’s bitch of a mother lied to both of us. We were both young and easily manipulated. We didn’t find out what her mother had done until years later, after we reconnected.”
“Wasn’t Annie’s ex-husband stalking her?”
“Yes. Ted.” Jake scowls. “He’s no longer an issue, thank God.” Then Jake’s expression changes completely, and his smile is genuine. “Now we’re happily married with three kids and another one on the way.”
“The brainiac and the brawn. That’s pretty applicable to me and Haley.” I frown at the similarity.
“What’s wrong?”
“Haley’s so young. I’m afraid she’ll realize I’m not the right one for her. That she can do better.”
Jake shakes his head. “Don’t be so melodramatic, pal. I’ve seen how she is around you. She’s smitten. And you’re a real catch. She’d be an idiot not to realize that.”
“But I’m her first boyfriend—”
“I was Annie’s first boyfriend, too. If her mother hadn’t separated us the way she did, I’m pretty sure we would have gotten married right after high school. We were already talking about it.” Jake pops a fry in his mouth and chews. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
When we leave the restaurant and walk out to our vehicles, Jake claps me on the shoulder. “Don’t overthink this, kid. You’re a good man, and you’d be a great husband. Just be yourself.”
* * *
After I get home from work, I inhale some leftovers and then crash on the sofa and call Haley.
I ask her about her classes. I love hearing her enthusiasm as she tells me all about them. Hell, she could say anything and I’d be happy to listen. I just love hearing her voice.
When she asks me about my day, I tell her all about what went down today.
She gasps. “Oh, my God, Philip! You could have gotten hurt!”
I chuckle. “Don’t worry. I was never in harm’s way. I’m just the one who called 911.”
She tells me about the book she’s reading for her Brit lit course. She tells me about how thought-provoking—her words—her political science class is.
Before I know it, we’ve been on the phone for over an hour.
“Oh, crap!” she says. “I have homework tonight.”
“No problem. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”
She sighs. “Okay. I miss you.”
Hearing her say that makes me smile. “We’ll do something later this week.”
“Promise?”
I smile. “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away, babe.”
After we end our call, I glance at the bag of Jane Austen books sitting on my coffee table. I plan to give them to her the next time I see her. They’re sort of a housewarming gift, only for a dorm room. A dormwarming gift? Is that even a thing?
It doesn’t matter. I had to get them for her.