CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ham stood at the small counter of Cape Fear Delivery, waiting for the manager to come out. He heard the young man telling him what they needed but the manager was just shaking his head.
“We don’t have fucking time for this,” said Wes.
He hopped the counter and walked into the manager’s office.
Ham just grinned. “Listen asshole, I don’t think you get it.
We’ve got lives in danger because you delivered assignments to a bunch of college kids who didn’t have the first fucking clue what they were doing.
Now a psycho is after them. Give me the fucking addresses or I will rip it out of you. ”
“I-I can’t,” said the manager.
“You can’t? You don’t keep records of this shit?” asked Ham.
“Of course, we do. It’s just that we didn’t record these. Professor Shawn Mills was a regular customer.”
“When, where did he have you deliver the items?”
“Sir, I’m trying to explain this to you. He came in with everything in envelopes, sealed, pre-addressed. He paid extra for us to not record the deliveries. Our delivery drivers just took them to the addresses.”
“You understand that’s illegal, right?” frowned Ham.
“I-I, uh, yes. But he was a good customer and we had no reason to suspect a college professor.”
“Where are your delivery drivers? Right now, where are they? I need to talk to a few that would have made the deliveries.”
The young man who was at the front looked at his boss and he nodded.
“Alright. We have three working today. We’ll call them back here. Please have a seat out there.”
“No,” said Ham. “I’m comfortable right here. I’d like to make sure that you’re not notifying someone that we’re here or what we’re looking for.”
The man frowned at him but said nothing. The first driver showed up in only fifteen minutes. The next two arrived together thirty minutes later. They didn’t remember exact addresses but they remembered that all of the deliveries were to off-campus apartments and remembered the buildings.
“Do you remember the locations of the apartments in the buildings? Were they on a corner, in the middle, facing a pool or road?” asked Ham.
“One was for sure facing a road. Oh! One was facing a little stream at the back of the complex. I remember that because her name was Creek. You know, like a stream but a creek.”
“Yes. I get it,” frowned Wes.
“Oh. Right,” said the younger man realizing that this was not a man to piss off. Wes turned to the manager.
“If anyone else knows something, please send a message to this number. These kids might not know that they’re in danger,” he said.
“Danger? It was just homework assignments,” said the man.
“Homework? Let me ask you something, how many covert homework assignments did you get in school? Did you have delivery men arriving at all hours with sealed envelopes filled with your algebra or English homework? You should have known something was wrong. Pay attention!”
Ham stormed out of the small office, slamming the door behind him. Wes just grinned at the shaken men, taking one of the hard candies in the dish on the counter and popping it into his mouth.
“My friend has anger issues,” he smiled. “You might want to remember that.”
Wes got into the truck and smiled at Ham.
“Nice bad guy routine,” he smirked.
“It wasn’t a routine. This is the shit that pisses me off. People knowing that something is unusual, strange but they don’t say anything.”
“Do you think he knew more than he let on?” asked Wes.
“No. I just think he was indifferent. He was making his delivery fee and that’s all that mattered. The apartments the kids spoke of are just up ahead.” They drove the short distance to the apartment complex and sure enough, discovered that the entire back breezeway faced a small creek.
“Sixteen doors,” frowned Ham.
“Wait a minute. Look.” He pointed to the mailboxes, numbered with all of the apartments but they also had names on them.
“Are you fucking with me right now? Do these kids not have any sense of self-preservation? Your name on the mailbox. That doesn’t scream ‘come and get me, by calling me by name and inviting me to your windowless van with candy’.” Wes laughed, shaking his head.
“You’re getting dramatic. Take a breath.”
“I don’t want to breathe. It’s overrated,” frowned Ham looking at the mailboxes. “Apartment 207.”
Ham knocked on the door and heard movement but no one answered. He knocked again with more force and a young woman opened the door, the chain still on.
“Yes,” she asked nervously.
“Are you Creek?”
“Yes.”
“Creek, I’m not here to harm you. I’d like to ask you some questions about your assignments from Professor Mills.”
“Uh, no. I mean, the police came by when he was fired from the university. I’ve said enough,” she said frowning.
They heard someone moving around the space and Wes smiled at the young woman then shoved the door hard with his fists. The pathetic chain gave way and Ham walked into the small apartment to see a middle-aged man shoving things in a duffel bag.
“Professor Mills, I assume,” said Wes.
“She’s done nothing wrong! Don’t hurt her,” he pleaded. Ham stared at the man, then looked around the room, realizing that they were more than professor and student.
“You’re protecting him,” frowned Ham.
“He’s protecting me,” said the girl. “He couldn’t go back to his own place because Giamanco sent his men there.”
“Why were you giving them those assignments?” asked Wes.
“I was in debt to Giamanco. He got me involved in those damn card games and I lost everything.
Thousands in my savings, my house, all of it.
When I had nothing to pay him back with, he suggested the assignments.
At first, I had no clue what they wanted.
I mean, nothing seemed connected. It was just odd.
“Then, as I looked at each one of them, I realized what he was doing. When the university found out, I was happy.”
“Happy?” frowned Ham.
“Yes. I figured if they fired me, I couldn’t help Giamanco but that only meant he didn’t need me any longer.”
“We need to know what those other assignments were. We understand that you didn’t keep anything on a laptop.”
“Not a laptop they knew about,” he said turning and taking a small tablet from his duffel. “I kept things on this. It’s old but I amped it up with more storage space and speed. I kept everything on here, which is what they wanted.”
“Alright, let’s get out of here.”
“Where are we going?” asked Mills staring at Wes and Ham.
“Somewhere that Vasily can’t get to you.”
“You know about him? Geez, I thought things might be better with Giamanco dead.”
“No. Things are definitely not better and they won’t get better until Vasily is dead,” said Ham.
“You’re safe, Creek,” said Professor Mills. “You could go home to your family.”
“No. No, I want to stay with you,” she pleaded, grabbing his hand. Ham and Wes stared at one another. The man was nothing to write home about. Short, somewhat soft and pudgy, thinning hair and thick glasses. She was lovely. This was definitely an odd couple.
They grabbed their things and followed the two men to the SUV.
Sitting in the backseat, Ham was having trouble understanding the relationship between the young woman and the professor.
He looked at them in the back seat through his mirror and frowned.
Signing to Wes, his friend pulled over on the side of the road.
“Why are we stopping?” she asked. Ham stepped out, opening the back door. He gripped the cell phone in her hand and stared down at the messages. “Hey! That’s mine!”
“You’re working with Vasily.”
“No. No, I swear Shawn. I’m not. They made me.”
“Made you? That’s an awfully sweet message for someone being forced to do something,” frowned Ham.
“You were working with them?” whispered Mills, appearing to be shocked.
“You don’t understand. They had photos of me. My family would be ruined! My father’s business would be destroyed.”
Ham ensured that the tracking was off on the phone, turned it off, and put it in his pocket.
“Where are you taking me?” asked Creek. Ham turned in his seat to stare at the girl.
“Either to prison or a safe place. I haven’t decided yet.”