Complicated Matters (19 page)

   Chapter 22

   Taylor woke up to the sound of his phone ringing. Farrah was sitting in the corner chair looking angry. 

   “Hello? I’ll be right there.” He got up and dressed. “The state’s attorney is waiting in my office. We have to go.”

   Taylor’s house was right down the street from the Sheriff’s office. It didn’t take long for them to get there.

   He escorted her into the lobby. “Stay here.”

   She rolled her eyes. “Yes, sir.”

   He entered his office thinking how cute she looked.

   “Who’s the ride along?” the Statewide Prosecutor asked.

   “Every member of the Mathews family has an agent,” Taylor reminded him.

   “Then where’s the interim sheriff?”

   “You’re looking at him. Don’t you state boys talk to each other? I was appointed interim sheriff as my cover. Now the cover’s blown, but I’m still doing the job.”

   The state prosecutor seemed confused. “Who’s your supervisor?” 

   Taylor took out his laptop and punched in his code.

   “Phillips here. Have you found that cache of drugs yet, Special Agent Taylor?”

   “I’m working on a lead, sir.”

   “The answer’s no. Why are you calling me?”

   “Could you please tell the prosecuting attorney who I am? He seems to be having a hard time with the concept of a temporarily assigned special agent going undercover as an interim sheriff.”

   “Tell him to concentrate on making a convincing argument in court and leave special ops to me. Phillips out.”

   The attorney sat down in Taylor’s seat. “Why does he believe there is a cache of drugs?” 

   Taylor flopped down in a small leather chair. “Do you think they were buying that stuff ten pounds at a time?” 

   “If there is a cache, where is it?”

   “May be I’m too damn busy answering stupid questions to find it.” Taylor stood up.  “If you’ll excuse me, I have a few leads to run down.”

   Lil Stewart was staffing the dispatcher’s desk. “Sheriff Taylor, there’s a ruckus going on at Millie’s can you take care of it, or should I call Deputy Bowman?”

   “I’ll take this one, but stand by in case I need backup. Any excuse to get away from that DA. Come on, Farrah. We’re going to Millie’s.” He ran to his patrol car with Farrah chasing after him.

   *

   They sped down the road and parked next to the handicapped space at Millie’s. 

   “You stay here.” He pointed his finger at her. “And keep your head down.”

   Taylor went inside and walked up to the counter. “Is there a problem, Millie?”

   “They left when I called you.” She poured him a glass of tea. “Have a seat. Take a load off.”

   Farrah came in.  “Is everything alright?” 

   Taylor spun around. “I thought I asked you to stay in the car.” 

   “Hello, Farrah.” Millie took a swallow from a glass of water. “I heard your folks returned from the dead.” 

   “Yeah, it’s a long story.” Farrah sat down at the bar and grabbed Taylor’s tea.

   “Alex and Jess say it was witness protection.” 

   Farrah stared at the counter. “Maybe it’s not that long after all.” 

   Taylor looked around Millie’s protection detail. “Why didn’t your assigned agent handle that domestic dispute?” 

   “Probably because I got him scrubbing the walk-in freezer,” she said.

   Taylor laughed. “He’s supposed to be protecting you.” 

   “He’s protectin’ me from the health inspector.” The woman had a perpetual smile on her face. “Speakin’ of protectors, you take care of my girl.” Millie nodded at Farrah. “I heard she’s got a shot a bein’ a Lady Gator.”

   “Will do, boss.” He snatched the tea out of Farrah’s hands and drank the remainder of it.

   “Hey,” Farrah yelled.

   He sat the empty glass down and dropped a dollar on the counter. “Better go.”

   Farrah sat down in the front seat of his car. “I won’t miss everyone knowing my business when I leave this place.”

  Her words made Taylor cringe. No matter where he went, she was going to leave Morgansville and never live there again. The sassy, little country girl was going to take on the big, bad world. He wondered how much she would change. “Just don’t let the world change you too much.”

   “What do you care what I do? Every time I get close to you, you push me away and hide behind that badge or shove a basketball at me.”

   Taylor wanted to take it all back. He wanted to hold her in his arms. He wanted--None of what he wanted mattered. He lost two dreams in his life. He wasn’t about to let her lose hers. “I wish I could make you understand.”

   She turned toward him. “Explain it to me.”

   “I tried to. You won’t listen.”

   *

   They drove back to the Mathews’ farm in silence. Taylor pondered his next move. He had to get some time alone to call Mark Chisolm. If his suspicions were right Clancy was the one bringing the coke into the United States.

   The Mathews went about their afternoon and the agents observed at a distance. 

   A camper was procured, and the house declared off limits. Two agents were in the front of the compound, two in back, and Taylor volunteered to hang out at the barn and watch the outer areas.

   Farrah didn’t speak to him and barely glanced his way the entire evening.

   It hadn’t been but a few hours, and already he was missing her.

   Night came, and the evening shift deputies came to relieve the FDLE agents.

   Taylor situated the deputies in their patrol cars and told them not to hesitate to wake the slumbering agents if the need arose. He told them to wake Morris first since he was the senior agent.

   The interior of the trailer was supposed to house six people, but four were cramped. 

   Taylor grabbed his sleeping bag and pillow, and headed for the overhead loft in the barn. At least there, he’d be able to talk to Clancy’s former partner in peace.

   The evening wore on, and midnight arrived. Taylor gave it another half hour before calling Chisolm.

   “Hello?”

   “Hey, Chisolm. This is Taylor. I worked with you and David Clancy before the Sarge got fed up and sent me over to the state boys.”

   “Yeah, I remember. Moody, little cuss. Got sent to some little hole-in-the wall nobody down here ever heard of. How the hell have you been?” Chisolm sounded like he wasn’t feeling too much pain.

   “I’m good. Sorry to bother you so late, but I need to ask you for some advice.”

   “That’s all right. I just got off work about a half hour ago. The real party ain’t even started yet. Got some barely legals coming over for a workout. How’s the socializing going on up there?”

   “It ain’t, man. I live like a freaking monk.” Taylor choked back the impulse to heave.  “That’s the reason I need your advice. Clancy was always talking about a charter boat captain. A chick with really big boobs. You don’t happen to know her name and what boat service she works for, do you?”

   “Oh yeah, just let me think. Valerie, he called her Voluptuous Valerie. She worked for Brigadoon Charters on a boat called The Fallen Lady. And she’s not big, she’s massive. Clancy used to say he could use her for a life raft. What’s wrong? Ain’t there no fishing up there?”

   “Man, they don’t even have the damn ocean up here. In fact, they’re a little slack on all aspects of entertainment.” Taylor looked around to make sure he was still alone. He sure as hell didn’t want Farrah hearing him talk like that. “And that leads me to my next question. Clancy used to procure some sweet rides. You couldn’t tell me where he got them, could you?”

   “Sure, Buddy. A place in Miami called Vortex Motors. Why would you be interested in a sports car? I thought you were into bikes.”

   “I figure if she’s into Clancy, then sports cars are what gets her going.” Taylor almost gagged. “I only got one chance to make a good impression and all that jazz.”

   “I know what you mean. But don’t worry. If she’s with Clancy, she ain’t that hard to impress. Good luck,” Chisolm laughed. “Don’t wear yourself out,”

   “Thanks man.” Taylor finished the conversation with the desire to take a shower. He heard footsteps. 

   He climbed down out of the loft and drew his gun.

   John Mathews stepped out of the shadows. “If you’re not gonna use that thing, put it away.” 

   Taylor holstered his gun. “It’s awfully late, isn’t it, Mr. Mathews?” 

   “Not if you’re havin’ conversations like the one I just overheard.” John pointed up.

   “Sir, I can explain that.” 

   John proceeded to climb the ladder. “Let’s go back to the loft.” 

   “I’m looking into the background of an old colleague of mine.” Taylor let John climb up first. “His former partner isn’t the trusting kind, so I had to pretend to be something I’m not in order to get the information I need.”  

   “You’re good at pretending, aren’t you, son?” John sat down and swung his legs over the edge of the loft.

   Taylor climbed up and sat down next to him. “Not as good as I need to be. If I was, more people would trust me. ”

   “That’s good to know.” John took out a cigar. “For a minute there, I thought I might be talkin’ to a pro.”

   “I try to be honest. But--” Taylor looked away.  “Maybe I’m not cut out for this undercover stuff after all. It’s getting hard to keep my stories straight.”

   John lit his cigar. “Is it really all just pretend with you?” 

   Taylor blinked. “I don’t understand your question, Mr. Mathews.”

   “Oh, I think you do.” John puffed on his cigar sending white smoke into the air. “Tell me something.”

   Taylor stuck his head down inside his shirt waiting for the smoke to dissipate. “If I can.”

   “Why are you pretending not to care for my daughter?” 
             

   “I never said I didn’t care about her. I don’t want to hurt her.” Taylor swung his feet back and forth. “I’m in the middle of something huge right now.” He let a few seconds tick off as he searched for another reason for his behavior. “Besides, she needs to concentrate on basketball, and she won’t do that with me distracting her.” 

   John stared at the ground below. “How would you know about something like that?” 

   “Miami High basketball, five years ago.” Taylor stood up. “Look up the name Antonio H. Taylor. I need to get some sleep.” 

   “One more question before I go.” John got up.

   “What would that be?” 

   “How many people can you become, before you forget who you are?”

   Taylor stared up at the tin roof and spider web covered rafters. “Who I am isn’t important.” 

   Chapter 23

   Taylor woke up to what sounded like a demolition crew. He got up and looked down from the loft.
Farrah. It figures.
 

   She was mumbling something about being stupid, and falling for an asshole. 

   He watched from overhead, as he moved his injured arm and shoulder, trying to relieve some of the stiffness. “Good morning, Sunshine,” he yelled just as she was about to take a hammer to a poor unsuspecting two-by-four.

   She returned the hammer to its rightful spot on the barn wall. “How long have you been up there?” 

   He covered his undershirt with a hoodie, and donned his sneakers. “All night.” 

   It was the middle of September. Nights were getting cooler. Taylor’s muscles ached from sleeping on the hard surface. They had to close this case soon. He took his time descending the rickety, homemade ladder.

   She met him at the bottom of the ladder. “Guess what my dad gave me this morning?” 

   He tried to pass her, but she stepped in front of him and took a folded piece of paper from her back pocket. He looked at the paper. “Why don’t you enlighten me?” 

   She unfolded the computer printout and stuck it in his face. “Why didn’t you tell me you used to be the top high school basketball player in the nation?” 

   He moved the paper out of his face, and passed her. “Because it’s ancient history.” 

   Farrah followed him. “Why did you quit?” 

   He turned around and found himself face-to-face with her. “I got my girlfriend pregnant and her parents kicked her out of the house. Do you want to ask any more questions about things that are none of your business?”

   “Where’s your kid?”  She looked him in the eyes.

   “Lianna miscarried before the sixth week.” He turned his back on her. “Are you ready to run with me?” 

   She put her hand on his shoulder. “You really don’t like talking about the past, do you?” 

   He opened the barn gate. “I’m a live-for-the-moment kind of guy.”