Chapter 5
FIVE DAYS LATER
Jude sat at a booth in the back of a truck stop outside of Albany.
She cupped her hands to her coffee mug to warm them.
The temperature had dropped into the forties.
Dark clouds thundered in the sky. Rain lashed the windows.
The decor in the restaurant felt sticky and sad.
It reminded Jude of the seedy strip clubs alcoholics flock to after the bars close.
She looked across the room. There was only one other customer. Like Jude, he’d taken a booth in a far back corner. His head was bent over his phone. His reading glasses were hot pink, probably borrowed from a wife or girlfriend.
The bell over the door chimed. Two men walked in looking miserable and hungover. They slouched onto barstools. Signaled for coffee.
She looked down at her mug, filled with gratitude for her sobriety.
A clash of thunder shook the window. Jude looked out into the parking lot. The rain was coming down so hard that her Jeep shuddered on its chassis. She had left Emmy at the hospital to visit with Mandy. The girl had a hard road ahead of her. Emmy was determined to make sure she wasn’t alone.
As terrible as the revelation about Allison’s murder had been, there was a new lightness to Emmy.
She had laughed this morning when Cole had accidentally spilled orange juice all over his new textbooks.
Her friendship with Hannah was finally mending.
Her long silences didn’t feel so pained anymore.
She could walk into the kitchen without her eyes searching for Myrna in her chair.
Her irritation no longer burned as brightly around Jude.
But she hadn’t yet told Jude that she was ready to talk.
In fact, she had studiously avoided the subject.
Celia had warned Jude that it was a mistake to let Emmy decide.
Cliftons were not known for embracing difficult conversations.
Leaving the ball in Emmy’s court was like playing badminton with a rock.
The bell chimed again. A young man with a high and tight haircut walked in. He wasn’t wearing a suit, but Reid Foley still looked like an insurance broker. He unzipped his jacket. Shook off the rain. Walked over to Jude.
“Dr. Archer?”
Jude motioned for him to sit. He was in jeans and a sweater. She hoped it was a good sign that he’d exchanged the leather derbies for Timberlands, and not because of the bad weather.
Foley asked, “Your sister doing okay?”
“She’s well, thank you.” Jude got down to business, because Foley was already taking more risks than he should. She slid over an index card with an address.
Foley stared at the card but didn’t take it. “Excuse me for being blunt, ma’am, but you know this is going to fuck over your sister’s ex-husband.”
“I do.”
Foley still didn’t take the card. He knew Jonah Lang wasn’t the only target. Jude was also fucking over Assistant Director Samuel Callaghan.
Samuel might’ve had a United States senator in his pocket, but Jude had the alphabet.
The DEA is primarily tasked with drug trafficking investigations. The ATF, among other things, enforces laws concerning the sale of alcohol. The TTB is responsible for ensuring all tax is paid on those sales. HSI handles human trafficking. The FBI goes after illegal gambling.
Jude’s friends at the US Marshals Service had all the cool toys, but they also possessed a legal power that no other agency shared: they could deputize individuals, including fellow law enforcement, to perform the services of the USMS, which could range from protecting federal judges to assisting other Marshals with investigations and arrests.
Every federal agency, all state law enforcement, and many local police departments have at any given time at least one deputized employee working with the USMS. Reid Foley was among them.
He had told her himself that he trained at Glynco.
Now, he was going to give the Marshals an active tip about illegal alcohol sales, drug dealing, illegal gambling, and human trafficking that was going to take place that evening at Jonah’s bar.
She watched Foley reach for the card, but he left it there. “You’re taking a big swing. I can’t help you if you miss. Think about your options. You could do a lot of good at the agency.”
“Yes, ma’am, but imagine what I could do if the agency was good.”
Jude watched him take the card. “Okay.”
He knew he’d been dismissed, but he didn’t go. He looked at her face. She knew what he was seeing. The yellowing bruises that her makeup couldn’t quite cover. The deep laceration on the bridge of her nose where Shane Russell had pistol-whipped her.
He said, “I heard the state cleared you on the Shane Russell shooting.”
Jude braced herself for the question she knew was coming. “What was it like?”
She shrugged. “It was like doing my damn job.”
Foley smiled. He shook out his jacket again before slipping it back on. The bell chimed when he left. Jude watched him run to his car in the pummeling rain. She wondered how long it would take him to relay her glib response. The agency loved a punchy soundbite.
Jude knew it was more complicated than that.
She could spend the next fifty years in therapy and never get to the bottom of the rage that had compelled her to empty an entire clip into Shane Russell’s head. Jude could blink and still see the white shard of bone that had been left of his skull.
The image was distasteful, but it didn’t give her nightmares.
She wasn’t haunted by the act. She felt absolutely no remorse.
Freddy Henley would’ve been proud. He had told Jude that anyone was capable of murder.
She was glad that the depraved serial killer was dead for many reasons, but especially because she never wanted to be tempted to tell Freddy that he was right.
The man on the opposite side of the room took off his pink glasses. He walked toward Jude with a languid, feline stride. The drunks at the bar sat up straighter when they recognized him. The stiff swing of his right arm gave him away.
Lee Rawley sat down across from Jude. He sniffed the air. “Your friend’s still got that new-fed smell, don’t he?”
Jude looked at the button on Lee’s shirt, the logo on his chest, and tried to anchor herself to keep the anxiety at bay.
He said, “Heard Shane Russell lost his head.”
“Went to the wrong house.”
Lee chuckled as he watched Foley’s car pull out of the truck stop. An ominous bolt of lightning flashed in the dark sky.
“You sure you want to do this?” Lee turned back to her. “I’m no fan of Jonah, but this will put him in a world of shit.”
Jonah wasn’t the only one. Neither was Samuel. The poker game had gone underground while the Clayville Police Department rode out multiple scandals. Almost every man who would be in attendance tonight represented some kind of threat to Emmy. Reggie Wilder. Bill Garrison. Allison’s old drug squad.
Lee had promised Jude that they would be caught with lots of drugs, lots of untaxed alcohol, and lots of women.
“All over eighteen,” Jude warned, as if she hadn’t already crossed all sorts of moral lines. “I have your word?”
He held up his hand. “You’re the bitch in charge, sweetheart. I just put the pieces on the board.”
“And made sure your fingerprints aren’t on them.”
“You asked me for help. You didn’t ask me to throw myself on the fire.” Lee dropped his hand to the table. “There’s some local boys who’ve been getting too big for their britches. They’ll take the fall for running the poker game.”
Jude knew they wouldn’t be stupid enough to defy the Rawleys. “I want it clear that what we’re doing is mutually beneficial. Bill Garrison’s vig is probably still running. Reggie’s too hot. His drug squad is radioactive. You can’t use them anymore.”
“C’est la vie.” He grinned. “One thing they’re not gonna stop making is more dirty cops.”
Jude hated that he was right. “None of this can blow back on Emmy.”
“Look at me.” He waited for her to comply. “I would never let that happen.”
Jude felt trapped in the soullessness of his eyes. She had forgotten the ease with which he made her feel like prey. The sound of thunder broke the spell. She looked out the window again. The storm was getting stronger. Lightning strikes cascaded across the sky.
“Okay.” Jude got her purse to pay for the coffee.
“Hold on, honey. No need to rush.” He flashed a toothy grin. “Gimme another few minutes to look at your beautiful face.”
Jude kept her purse in her lap.
“Tell me about your life.”
Jude shrugged. “Not much to say.”
“I’ll start.” His tone was light, but she recognized the danger. “Married Nikki Harrelson about a year after you left. Poor thing passed giving me a baby girl. Then my girl died but left me a fine grandson. Dated around a bit. Met a few good women but never got hitched again.”
Jude thought about the gun in her purse. She had started carrying Gerald’s 357 Magnum.
He asked, “What about you, honey?”
“One marriage. One divorce.”
He combed his fingers through his curly, dark hair. “Children?”
“What do you want, Lee?”
He shrugged his shoulder. “You must be proud. The election was a blowout. Another Sheriff Clifton. Can’t be a bad thing to have a cop who owes you a favor.”
“I don’t owe you any favors.”
“No, darling. I still keep my promises. Even after forty-two years.”
She dropped her purse on the table. Lee Rawley recognized the thud of a gun inside a bag. “If you ever think about going back on our deal, I want you to remember what I did to Shane Russell.”
Lightning strobed outside the window. Thunder shook the glass. The light traced along his delicate eyelashes, brought out the clear, startling blue of his eyes.
Jude leaned across the table. “I will do whatever it takes to protect my daughter.”
His grin didn’t falter. “So will I.”