“Why not?”

  “I-I just can’t.”

  Holden entered with a tape. Greg made a big deal about listening to Holden whisper. Then he rose and started to walk out the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Thank you for your time, Mr. Wexell, but I fear we will no longer need you.”

  Greg was at the door.

  “No, no, don’t go. He can’t give you everything. I know everything. Come back. I’ll tell. I’ll tell.”

  For the next few hours Don Wexell explained their entire scheme. How he and his brother had extorted money from soldiers. How they kept the files in an underground bunker that had no longer been used for training and how Chopin had stumbled onto them.

  “We offered to bring him in. He was a legend! He could have brought more money than ever, but he wasn’t interested. He loved the army. He loved his country. Blah, blah, blah.”

  “Then what? How did you get him to meet with your brother after that?”

  Don leaned back in the chair. “Now that was a work of art.”

  Ericka swallowed. She needed to hear the story from the two-way mirror, but she didn’t really want to.

  “Would you like to write it down?” Apparently, Greg didn’t want to hear it either.

  “Oh, no, this has to be recorded. I want to hear this later when I’m in prison.” He paused. “Ah, it was perfect. The unit had a training mission. Chopin was going to show them all how to jump from the plane and land in a wooded area. But the plane had an issue, wind or something, and it blew him slightly off course. He went down and got stuck in a tree. Of course we were waiting for him. We knew he had the canvas bag. He’d thrown it down before him. We figured he planned to escape with it after the jump. We did find a car waiting for him later. But I digress. He got stuck in a tree. Ron climbed up and cut him down. Chopin hit so hard; he broke both his legs. He was still trying to get up and walk when I stabbed him in the back. I thought it was fitting.”

  “How so?”

  “He was going to do it to us. He played us like a fiddle. He said he was going to work with us. Then after we showed him the bunker he went down there and stole files one at a time. He’d copy them and put them back.”

  Ericka got it. They were mad because of the double cross.

  Fanny softly cried at the back of the room.

  “Thank you, Councilman.”

  “Oh, you’re welcome. I’ve been holding that back for fifteen years. It feels good to get it off my chest.”

  “I’m sure you’ll get to tell more people.”

  “You think so? I just love to share stories.”

  Greg left the room and Ericka met him in the hallway. “That guy is sick.”

  “Agreed.”

  “The locals are taking it over for now, right?”

  “They are.”

  “I guess that means we can go home.” Greg smiled. “I’m actually very excited by that.”

  “Me, too.”

  Ericka meant it. She was excited to be headed home. Maybe after a long rest, she could start looking into her own family situation. Her father was out there and she wasn’t going to stop until she found him.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “So, what are we doing again?” Burle had asked about the order of things about ten times. Greg was getting a little tired of it.

  He sighed and told them again.

  “Fanny is driving Quinn to meet up with Tristan and Maggie. Tristan needs his truck to move. Holden and Linda are going back to their offices here. You and Tito are getting on a plane and going back to explain everything to the Director.”

  “And you and Ericka are…”

  Ericka blurted, “Driving forever.” Then she stalked off.

  “She doesn’t seem happy about that.”

  “I don’t think she is. But I need a spare driver and everyone else is needed somewhere else.”

  Tito stood off to the side. A toothpick dangled in his mouth.

  “I don’t think he is happy that you’ll be alone with Ericka again.” Burle had probably called it right.

  “He has nothing to worry about.”

  “Oh, really? So, there isn’t anything or any feelings between you and Ericka Stone.”

  Greg couldn’t say no feelings because that would be an outright lie, but he wasn’t sure what kind of feelings.

  “I see. You’re confused.” Greg started to speak, but Burle held up his hands. “You do not have to explain it to me. Relationships are weird and hard. I just want to get back to my wife, retire, and start my new job. You guys can have all this craziness to yourself.”

  “Well, thanks for that. I hope you’ll visit.”

  “Uncertain. I’m thinking that a break might be nice.”

  “I don’t know how I feel about that.”

  Burle patted his shoulder. “You’ll understand one day.” Then he walked off to the cab where Tito stood.

  Quinn and Fanny were climbing in the truck. That only left him and Ericka. She rolled her suitcase over to the car. He popped the trunk with his key fob, and she settled the case inside.

  “I can’t believe I’m riding this again. I said I wouldn’t.”

  “We all say things we won’t do then do them anyway.”

  “Hmm, good point.”

  She climbed into the passenger seat. He looked around the lot one last time before getting behind the wheel. A new adventure was about to begin. He could feel it.

  Ericka fell asleep about two miles into the journey. He turned on the radio and listened as the car ate up the miles. Heidi had texted him a few times and he’d agreed to meet her as soon as he got home.

  He kind of had goosebumps thinking about it. Other than with Ericka he hadn’t felt that way in a while. Heidi was intelligent, beautiful, thoughtful, and understood his job. She was everything he needed in a woman, but she wasn’t Ericka. It was a bit of a conundrum. One that a couple of days of thinking might or might not fix.

  Greg yawned behind his hand. Then he coughed.

  Ericka stirred beside him. “Want to switch? I’m not sleeping real well anyway.”

  “Sure.”

  Greg pulled over and they switched seats. Five or ten minutes passed before he could feel his eyelids growing heavy.

  ****

  North Carolina soon ran into Virginia. The miles toward home were drawing closer to an end. Work would go on like normal. Ericka would be surrounded by lovebirds.

  Blake, Quinn, and Fanny were headed to pick up Tristan and Maggie. Holden and Linda had gone back to their homes and jobs in Asheville. Once they arrived in New York Quinn and Fanny would be actively finding her a place close by him to live. Tristan and Maggie had a relationship, and they would only grow closer. And now it seemed Greg had a significant other. She’d seen him texting and smiling. Even chuckling sometimes.

  The story of Ericka’s life. She’d waited too long and now she was alone again. It was a shortcoming. This detour as well as others in her life should have taught her the value of expediency but she was hardheaded.

  Greg snored lightly as she hit the New York line. Her stomach growled. She was hungry but more than anything she needed a cup of coffee. Sometimes it was the only thing that kept her going when she had to push herself as hard as she had been.

  She pulled over at an all-night café and cut the motor.

  Greg didn’t budge.

  She started to shake him but decided against it. Instead, she eased the door open and closed it quietly. At the diner’s door she glanced back but he was still asleep. The bell above the door rang and she cringed at the sound. The aroma of fresh brewed coffee teased her senses as she walked up to the counter.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Two large coffees, please.”

  “One moment.”

  Even though the pot was on the long counter behind the waitress, she disappeared into the back area where the kitchen was. Ten minutes passed. Ericka’s senses had adjusted, and her anger had increased. She thought about walking out. But she really wanted a cup of coffee. And pie. Now she wanted pie. Her mouth watered at the thought.

  “I’m sorry you had to wait.” The waitress returned. She looked frantic and her hands trembled. “Anything else?” She kept glancing toward the back, then looking at Ericka with wide, rounded eyes.

  Ericka flashed her badge. The waitress widened her eyes even more. She shook her head no. But Ericka knew something was wrong. She pulled her gun, held it properly with her finger along the barrel. She heard the raised voices before she saw them.

  A man dressed in a white apron, browned from years of grease, was on his knees in front of a griddle type stove. His hands were lifted in a pleading manner. “Please! Please! I no know. I no know.”

  “Diego, not knowing you’re stepping on my turf is not an excuse.”

  Ericka listened while she assessed the room. Two men flanked a well-dressed man that spoke. They were both rather large with guns bulging from their waist and long metal pipes in their hands. If she marched herself in and a firefight occurred, she might cause a hostage situation.

  She needed another idea. Warning Greg was a good one. In fact, if he stumbled in looking for her it could be even worse of a situation than it already was. She glanced around. On the wall was a fire alarm. Directly above the man in the kitchen was some pipes and what looked like sprinklers. Now she had an idea. She stepped back into the main eating area and dialed 911. She explained the location and the circumstances, hung up, waited one minute, then stepped back to her vantage point in the kitchen.

  In those minutes she had been on the phone, one of the goons had punched Diego in the stomach. He doubled over only to be jerked upright by the hair. “We want it. Want it now.”

  “I don’t know what you speak of.”

  The other goon slapped him across the face. Diego spit blood from his mouth.

  Ericka started to pull the alarm early, but if the cops weren’t in place the incident would just happen again later.

  Then she pulled the alarm. Water rained down on the men’s heads.

  They blocked their eyes.

  Alarm bells rang.

  “Boss, we need to leave!”

  “Not without the product.”

  “Boss! The cops will get the alert and be here any minute. We need to split.”

  The boss made a disgusted noise and took off toward the back of the building. Ericka saw the red swirling lights through the open door. The three acted as if to back up into the kitchen, but Ericka ran forward, and grabbed the doorknob and pulled the door shut. Diego stared at her wide eyed.

  Ericka shrugged.

  ****

  Greg jolted awake at the sound of gunshots. He tried to jump from the car, but the seatbelt held him firmly in place. He pulled until he was free. The door flung wide. He reached out to grab it and realized that he hadn’t seen Ericka in the car.

  Red and blue lights lit up the parking lot. Officers were escorting people out of an alley in cuffs. Greg didn’t wait, he raced into the diner. An officer who held a pad of paper and pen turned and sent him a “who are you” look.

  Ericka stood next to a man in white pants with a dirty white apron.

  The officer said, “The diner is closed.”

  Greg pointed at Ericka.

  “You know him?”

  Ericka nodded. “This is my partner, Sergeant Greg Kane.”

  The officer looked him up and down. “You’re a sizeable fellow. What were you doing when this little lady took down the gang?”

  Greg waited for Ericka to rat him out as sleeping when she needed help, but she didn’t. Instead, she said, “Are we done, Officer Dune.”

  Dune shut the book. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “You took down my number?”

  “I did.”

  “Good. My partner and I need to get back on the road.”

  As Ericka went to pass, the woman handed her a piece of pie.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Ericka walked out and Greg followed, he felt like an obedient puppy. When the doors closed, he said, “What just happened?”

  Ericka laughed. “It’s hard to explain. Maybe I can tell you on the last leg of our journey.”

  Greg nodded. He looked forward to getting home almost as much as her explanation of events. Being with Ericka was a never-ending ride.

  He couldn’t wait for the rest of their journey.

  Excerpt from Journey, Ericka Stone Case #009

  Detective Ericka Stone pulled into Greg’s driveway. He’d fallen asleep and started snoring again. Only this time she could have sworn his snoring echoed.

  “Are we here?” Greg Kane, her boss and friend, stretched his arms over his head and leaned back in the seat.

  “Ow!”

  Greg sat straighter. His eyes widened. “Did you say that?”

  “No, I thought it was you.”

  “It wasn’t me.”

  A head appeared between the seats. “It was me. You crushed me.”

  Ericka squealed and jumped forward, hitting her side against the steering wheel.

  “You’re a kid.” Greg sounded breathless.

  “I’m a big kid.” The child held up six fingers and puffed out his chest.

  Ericka licked her lips and cleared her throat. “What are you doing in my car?”

  He shrugged.

  Greg asked, “Where did you come from?”

  The boy smiled. “God.”

  Greg tried again. “I mean today. When did you climb in the car?”

  “Can’t remember.” He bounced from one side of the seat to the other.

  Ericka watched the little boy bounce up and down. Every now and then he would squeal as if something was funny. She eased closer to Greg. “What are we going to do?”

  “You stay with him while I make a call.”

  “I can’t—”

  Greg opened the car door and stepped out.

  Ericka swallowed and smiled. “I’m Ericka, what’s your name?”

  The little boy shifted his head to the side and put his finger to his chin. “Um, not sure.”

  “I mean, what do people call you?”

  “Lots of things. Tadpole, stinky, fish, cat, Roger.”

  “Is your name Roger?”

  He shook his head no. “Roger, roger like the droids in the Star Wars movie. Remember? I like that movie. There was a little boy and he drove in a special race, and he won. Do you think I could win?”

  “Oh.” Ericka was perplexed. She had a stowaway in her car and the new journey looked as if it was about to begin before she even went inside her house. That reminded her. She hadn’t told Greg about the last experience in the diner.

  She might need to do that soon. It could have something to do with the kid being in her car. She wondered…

  Journey, coming in May or June…

  Author’s Note

  As I wrote the final chapters of this book my life was completely changed.

  On April 1st, my younger brother was set to undergo open heart surgery. My father, who resided in a different state, drove in to be there for the surgery. As scheduled, my brother had his surgery. The next day when they tried to pull him off the ventilator his heart rate went into the fifties, and we all thought he was gone.

  Days passed when the doctors didn’t seem to have a clue what to do, then on April 4th my dad went to his car and never returned. I found him an hour later and he was gone. The events that followed are some of the most traumatic of my life.

  As I write this note it is April 13th. My dad has been laid to rest. My brother has had another open-heart surgery and is still fighting to recover. I fear the day when he finds out about my dad. But I know God is good.

  Thank you for any prayers you would like to send our way.

  Journey was a story I planned before any of this happened. The concept is the same, but the story will change as I have changed. I hope you will keep looking forward to its release. At this time, while I like to keep to a regular schedule, I can’t give a date. Thank you for your understanding during this time of loss.

 

 

  Felicia Rogers, Detour, Ericka Stone Case #008

 

 

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