FanStory.com - Redemption by bhogg

FanStory.com
"Redemption"

Chapter 1
Child of God

By bhogg

Dax walked fast, head down scrunched toward his shoulders. As he approached the railroad track, he looked to his right. The sun was low in the sky. Many people would have stopped and enjoyed the beautiful sunset. It was the time of day when the horizon created a split in the sky; the bottom reflective of the sun, in umber tones of orange and reddish brown. The sky above was near ending its day, darkness creeping in. Dax didn't see beauty. He hadn't seen beauty in a long, long time.

As he stopped, he had a fleeting thought that the tracks were a lot like his life. He could walk to the right, toward something, if only a setting sun. With light, there was hope. He could walk to the left, away from new hope, new beginnings. He didn't much care one way or the other. Several hundred yards to the left, there was an old deserted structure with a roof; probably an old tending station. The temperature was dropping, and this could possibly be a place to get out of the cold and spend the night.

As Dax walked to the old station, he felt the fool. The easiest way to walk was to step on each railroad tie. If he tried walking on the gravel, it tended to telegraph right through his thin soles and hurt his feet. For some reason, as he walked with staggered gait, he was reminded of something from his childhood, walking down a sidewalk, avoiding each crack. Step on a crack, break your momma's back ...

A sound brought him back to the here and now. It was coming from the old tending station and was unmistakable. It was a muffled scream, definitely female, followed by a male voice hollering, "Shut up bitch!" Dax dropped his pack and ran to the structure. He could see a beat up, muddy, pick-up truck parked behind. Through the doorway, he saw two men standing over a woman. To the 60 year old Dax, they looked young, mid-twenties to thirty. They were big old boys, long greasy hair, jeans and tee-shirts. They had wide shoulders and chests, but starting to look like much of the muscle was turning to fat. One of them was holding down a young female, possibly 20 years old. Her blouse was ripped from the right shoulder, down to her waist. The other man was in the process of unbuckling his pants.

They both looked up startled as Dax walked through the door. "Hey, boys, it ain't really a party until the lady says so. It looks to me like she would just like to go her own way." As Dax looked at her, the eyes told the story. He would later see that they were beautiful blue, but now all he could see was white, with a look of sheer terror.

The one man stopped unbuckling his pants and said to his partner, "Hey, Donny, it looks like we got us an old man who might want his turn. What do you think? Should he get him a little too?"

"No Jake - I don't think so. Why don't we just kick his ass? There's plenty of time to 'party' with the bitch. Old man, you should have never stuck your nose into something that's none of your business. We're going to mess you up now. Maybe you should just turn around and run."

You would think that running would have made sense. Dax was 5'11" and weighed about 180. The same weight as when he was twenty. And then there was his age. Donny and Jake almost looked like twins. Both were about 6'2" and each weighed at least 250.

Dax slowly stepped back. Lightly standing on the balls of his feet, his stance was about shoulder width. He flexed slightly at the knees and started twisting and bending his torso from left to right. His hands came up in open fists, to about face level. It would be hard to ignore the obvious scar tissue and calluses. These were not the hands of a computer specialist.

Donny took one look and said, "What are doing old man? Are you going to pull some Billy Jack shit on us or something?"

"Well, well, it's a surprise that you remember Billy Jack. That was a bit before your time. No, I'm not Billy Jack. He was a pussy; a pacifist who was interested in helping people. Helping you is out of the question. I'm going to hurt you. Billy Jack did a couple of fancy moves and kicked a guy in the side of the head. I'm going to break your knees. That hurts worse then anything else I can think of. It will hurt you right now and you'll remember this moment for the rest of your life, because that's how long your knees will hurt. If you two just turn around and run, maybe we'll just forget about this."

Whether they should have run or not, was a moot point. Jake reached behind his back and started approaching Dax. In a sudden move, his hand came from behind his back with a knife, and with a downward strike, he was trying to stab Dax in the face. Dax's left arm met the strike, wrist to wrist. His arm and elbow formed a 90 degree angle. Simultaneously, his right hand punched Jake in the forehead. Now moving forward, Dax grabbed the knife hand with his left hand and pushed and twisted in down behind Jake's back. His knee, moving at the same time, hit Jake's crotch hard enough to lift him off the ground. Then, stepping back, he pulled the knife hand forward with him. When the arm was fully extended, he pushed Jake's fingers and wrist back until they snapped. It was easy now to rake the knife out of his hand. Dax then moved back toward Jake and delivered a straight kick to his knee. Jake went down holding his knee and screaming.

Dax took care of Jake in about five seconds. It was understandable that Donny was approaching almost hesitantly. "You know, Donny, you can still walk away from this and haul your sorry ass friend with you?"

"You know, old man, I'd like too, but I can't. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yea, I do, so give it your best shot. Jake's not going to help you."

A knife had also appeared in Donny's hand. It was a nasty looking skinning knife, the blade half serrated. His thrust was low, toward Dax's gut. The block was about the same as before, only downward. This time Dax swung with his hips from right to left, and delivered an elbow to Donny's solar plexus, followed with a quick elbow to his nose. The knife was no longer an issue. Donny dropped it as his hand moved to his nose. Dax then slapped an empty hand hard across Donny's left ear, most likely perforating his eardrum. As his other hand covered the ear, Dax performed a quick straight kick to Donny's groin. As he doubled over, Dax moved slightly to his right and delivered a round kick to Donny's left knee. As promised, he broke it.

With both men down, Dax went to check on the girl. She was shivering, still in shock. "Don't worry - it's all over from those two. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to help. Just take a few deep breaths, and pull yourself together. I'm going to tie those two up."

The two goons had a coil of para-cord 550 with them, probably to use on the girl. Dax was well familiar with the cord and also how to tie them so that if they even moved, it would choke them. He may not have even needed it. They were just laying there moaning.

Dax walked back over to the girl. She had managed to pull the blouse back up over her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

She looked up at him and he saw for the first time that she had beautiful blue eyes. Even with all the stress she had just gone through, he could tell that she was a striking young woman.

"Sir, I don't know who you are, but you are a God send! Those two were going to rape me for sure, and since they didn't seem to care that I would recognize them, it could have ended a lot worse. I've never seen anyone move like you did. You put those two big guys down in about twenty seconds. Were you in the army or something?"

Dax looked at her for a moment and replied, "Yea, or something." It didn't seem necessary to tell her that most of his career was with the secret service. The moves that she had seen were Krav Maga moves, taught to him by the Israeli Mossad years ago. As he told the two punks, Krav Maga is not taught for fancy moves. At best, it is taught for defense, but mostly to hurt and even kill.

Dax helped the girl to her feet. He noticed that she was just slightly shorter than he.

With almost a smile, she exclaimed, "I don't know who you are, or why you showed up, but in the biggest time of need in my life, you were there. I don't know how to thank you!"

With a sad, withdrawn look, Dax replied, "You don't have to thank me at all. I'm just sorry that ten years ago, I wasn't there for my own daughter. She was about your age."

"What happened to her?"

"She was a model and was on a photo shoot in Washington, D.C. Just as her life was beginning, she was kidnapped and killed. Some very bad people wanted me dead, so tried to get to me through her.

"I am so sorry! What was her name?"

"Her name was Lael. It's an old Hebrew name that means child of God."

The girl blinked rapidly and with tears in her eyes, looked at Dax and said, "My name is Lael too."

Chapter 2
Awakening

By bhogg

In a previous chapter, Dax stumbles upon an attempted rape. Due to past training and discipline, he reacts in a way that rescues an 18 year old girl. In the process, he experiences a re-awakening of thoughts and memories.

Dax literally staggered when he heard the girl's name. He thought of his own Lael many times, but actually hearing her name flooded him with memories. Being confronted with saving this girl, when he was unable to save his own daughter was almost more than he could bear.

It was ten years prior when Dax's daughter, Lael, was abducted. She was grabbed by a Hezbollah splinter group. Their 'thing' wasn't kidnapping for money. What they wanted was to lure Dax out and kill him. It didn't work quite to plan. His wife Rachael heard the recording on their home phone and rushed out to adhere to their instructions. She was run off the road about one mile from their home. It wasn't a pretty scene. Rachael was an ex-Mossad agent. She took out one of the terrorists, and there were traces of vitreous fluid under her fingernails. She had most likely blinded, or partially blinded another. Hezbollah would have realized extreme political gain from seizing her alive, but probably in self defense, shot her. All her efforts were for naught anyhow. Lael had been killed immediately.

These and other thoughts overwhelmed Dax. He remembered the first time he met Rachael in Israel. It was an inauspicious meeting. Within ten seconds of meeting him, Rachael was yelling. "So you are the big shot American Secret Service agent that I'm supposed to babysit! I've got many important things to be working on and now I'm stuck with you." Dax was on an exchange program. A Mossad agent of similar status was now in Washington, D.C., undergoing training there. Dax had to smile, knowing that his training counterpart would be working with Jeremy Dent, and would be realizing hell of his own. "What's so funny, big shot?"

"Nothing really; I'm just wondering what sort of reception your guy is getting in Washington." One thing Dax knew for sure. Rachael was a whole lot better looking than Jeremy. In fact, as he looked at her, he was amazed. This beautiful Sabra was the daughter of a Mossad General, so certainly could have served on the sidelines somewhere. Instead, she was an experienced Mossad Agent. Her dossier indicated that she had been blooded. In their world, that meant she had killed people. So had he.

Dax was a field agent, but not regular Secret Service. He was a member of a very specialized group called, Advanced Strategic Protective Services. Somehow, the acronym ASPS seemed to fit. Like the poisonous viper, this group could reach out and hurt you. Appropriate protection of dignitaries was normally static, but with this group, often involved elimination of the threat at the source. These services were often involved with the disruption of groups or individuals thought harmful. Many times, these disruptions were financial. It wasn't so bad being in a service officially headed by the U.S. Treasury. They had access to the best minds in the world on how to track and find money. Sometimes the disruptions were those done with extreme prejudice.

Getting to the Secret Service wasn't easy for Dax. The primary service seems dominated by Ivy League, blue blood types. Neither of those fit Dax. He was first generation American. His father, Patrick Connor, was Black Irish. He immigrated to the United States and worked as a computer specialist. So unlike most Irish, Patrick was dark, both in complexion and in his eyes, which were closer to black than brown; no doubt a descendant from earlier migrations from the Iberian Peninsula. His mother was from the Peloponnese area of Greece. Her ancestors had definite influences from Arabs and Ottoman's. Dax got his name from her grandfather. He had always heard that he was a pirate. Dax was a mixture of both. His dark eyes, hair and complexion could have suggested a citizenship in many countries in Southern Europe or the Middle East. This had proven advantageous in many of his assignments.

His training was intense. At first, there was no time for anything other than physical and tactical training. After a while, Dax and Rachael grew closer, much closer. They became lovers, and after a while, learned to love. Dax was thinking of some of the many wonderful times, when he was pulled out of his funk, by Lael shaking his shoulder. "Mr., Mr., are you okay?"

Author Notes I'm attempting to start a book based on an original story named Child of God. This in response to many kind inquiries to continue. I welcome your input!

Chapter 3
The Mystery Begins

By bhogg

Dax stumbles upon an attempted rape. Due to past training and discipline, he quickly subdues two bad guys. In the process, he experiences a re-awakening of thoughts and memories. It's time to get the bad guys behind bars and get Lael home.

Dax looked at Lael as he spoke, "Yes, Lael, I'm fine; just coming down from an adrenaline rush. Hearing your name caused my mind to wander. You seem to have gathered yourself together pretty well. Are you O.K.?"

"I guess so. You know my first name. My whole name is Lael Jackson."

Sticking his hand out, Dax introduced himself. "It's nice to meet you Ms. Lael Jackson. My name is Dax Connor. Now that we've gotten through that, we need to figure out what to do with these two goons." Looking at the two moaning creeps on the ground, Dax glanced through the back door at the battered pick-up. "Did they get you here in the truck?"

Shuddering, Lael confirmed. "They did, and I'm pretty sure that the keys are still in it."

"Those two boys aren't going to be able to walk too well, and putting them in the back of that truck won't help their condition. I remember walking through a town. It will probably be better for us to drive back into town and let the sheriff know about them and the need for an ambulance. Do you know where the sheriff's office is?"

Squinting, Lael responded, "I know where the sheriff's office is and I know the sheriff. I'm not sure we should go to him."

This wasn't Dax's town, so he had to ask, "Why wouldn't you want to go to the sheriff?"

"Sheriff Bailey used to be a good man, but I think he is too tight with Paul Boudreaux."

"All right, Lael, that's a lot of information, most I don't understand. Who is Boudreaux?"

Pointing at the two on the ground, Lael replied, "Well for one thing, he's the guy that those two work for. More than that, he seems to control all of the drugs that are going into our town, Hurstville, and the whole county. People used to turn a blind eye when it was just marijuana; most likely because a lot of it was grown around here. When it turned in to cocaine, and most recent, meth, it's gotten to be a real problem. Anyhow, I would feel more comfortable telling the deputy. His name is Jimmy Dent and I've known him since I was a little girl. Jimmy and my brother Luke used to be best friends."

"Did something happen between them?" Dax noticed a flinch and a slight reddening of her eyes.

Lael, explained, "Nothing really happened between them. Luke was killed in Afghanistan this last spring. What we heard was so much like Luke. He was a short timer and had permission to stay on the forward outpost, but he went out with his guys and was killed by a sniper."

"I am very sorry to hear that. I've been in and around the military and military organizations all my life. He was your brother, but to people like me, he was a brother in arms." Pausing to let Lael re-group, Dax continued, "Let's ride into town and look up Jimmy. Those two aren't going anywhere."

They confirmed quickly that the keys were in the truck. Lael was also glad to see her purse. It was a stick shift, so Dax asked, "Can you drive a stick?"

"Heck, yeah, you don't grow up in Hurstsville without driving a tractor, or a truck or something with gears. Since I know where I'm going, why don't I drive?"

Dax was always uncomfortable when it came to multi-tasking while driving. Lael seemed to have it down. She was talking on her cell phone to Jimmy and explaining what happened. When she needed to shift gears, she would tell Jimmy to hold on and grab phone and wheel in the same hand, shifting with the other. He could only hear one side of the conversation, but he could tell that Jimmy was not happy.

They were in downtown Hurstville within fifteen minutes. Dax looked around and felt embarrassed. He must have walked right through this town earlier in the day and not noticed a thing. Like so many small towns in the Southeast, Hurstville was built around an old square. The square not only had the obligatory statue of a southern soldier, there was a bubbling fountain as well. The whole square was lined with small American flags. This city, like many, tried to bring back the beauty of times gone by. Some of the streets had been taken back to the old brick , and trendy restaurants and law offices occupied the now beautiful, refurbished old buildings. It all seemed to work; a nice place.

The Sheriff's Department occupied an old marbled front, Art-Deco type building, right off the square. Standing on the steps, with arms crossed, was a tall, well put together deputy. His uniform was immaculate with shoes you could see your reflection in. Dax hoped this was Jimmy. It was.

Jimmy came down the steps and standing in front of Lael, grabbed both her arms and bent down to look her in the eye. "Are you all right brat?"

"Yeah, I'm o.k., but mostly thanks to Mr. Connor here. Jimmy, this is Mr. Connor, the one I was telling you about."

Jimmy took Dax's hand and with obvious emotion, thanked him. Then with a twinkle in his eye, he asked, "Where's your cape? According to Lael, you are Superman or something?"

"No, not Superman. I was just lucky to be at the wrong place at the right time and run in to a couple of goons whose arrogance made them sloppy. By the way, if you two want me to know that you are talking to me, call me Dax. I don't remember the last time that anyone called me Mr. Connor."

"Fair enough Dax. We need to do some paperwork, but it might make more sense to go pick-up the two guys. Lael said you left them needing a little medical assistance. When we have some more time, I want to find out how you handled those two. From Lael's description, I'm pretty sure I know who they are, and they are two bad hombres. Why don't you two ride with me. Officer Tate left right after you got here and is headed out with the medical team."

"Dax, we know who Lael is, but before we go, would you mind giving me your driver's license? I'd like to leave it with my assistant, Sylvia. She will do a quick check and you can pick it up when we get back?"

Dax did so. After giving Sylvia the license, the three headed out the door. The two men got in to the front seat, with Lael in the back. As they were heading back to the tending station, Jimmy queried Dax, "I don't mean to pry, but it was strange that you were walking down the road this afternoon. First, why were you on foot? Second, are you just passing through, or are you headed somewhere?"

Dax paused a moment before answering, "It's a complicated answer. I wasn't coming from anywhere and I wasn't really going anywhere either. When I crossed the railroad crossing, that old tending station looked like a pretty good place to spend the night. It was as simple as that. I could have just as easily kept on walking."

With that, Lael leaned over the seat, touched Dax's arm, and said, "I can only thank God that you didn't."

Just then, Sylvia apparently rang up Jimmy on his Blue Tooth headset. He spoke with her for a moment and turned to Dax. "We did a quick and dirty check on you, and there isn't a whole lot out there. About the only thing that we can find was that you have a clean driving record, have never been arrested and you were given a full medical retirement from the Department of the Treasury. Your records indicate that you were an accountant. Does all that sound about right."

With a slight smile, Dax replied, "most sounds about right."

“You’ve got to do me a favor. When we get those two guys back to the lock-up, you’ve got to promise to fill me in on the whole story. Since it will be after hours, I’ll even spring for a beer.”

“I feel totally burned out, so that beer will probably put me right out, but you’re on!”

Chapter 4
Murder

By bhogg

Stanley Tate was a good police officer. Not a great one by any means, just good, dependable and thorough. Where Jimmy’s uniform was always pressed, with spit shine polished shoes, Stan looked more like Archie Bunker. Even though he was fifteen years older, he and Jimmy were the same rank. It did not bother Stanley at all to take orders from Jimmy. In fact, he preferred it. Sometimes there is a great comfort in being told what to do. When asked to head out to the old railroad tending station, he called two County EMT’s he felt comfortable with and headed out.

When Stan and the two EMT’s walked into the structure, they saw two bodies lying on the ground. He kneeled to get a better look. Feeling for a pulse, he found the skin still warm to the touch, but they were definitely dead. Both had taken a single small caliber bullet hole to the back of the head. Oddly enough, there was very little blood. Looking at the two EMT’s, he said, “Alright, guys, just back out. Try not to walk on any ground you haven’t already stepped on and don’t touch anything. This is now a crime scene.’

As the three stepped out, Jimmy drove up in his car with Dax and Lael. Walking over, Stan motioned for Jimmy to lower his window. “Hey, Jimmy, Those two guys are tied up like you said, but they’re not just beat up. They’ve been shot in the head and are very dead.”

Jimmy looked up in obvious surprise. “What all did you do?”

“Not much, Jimmy, just the obvious stuff, confirmed they were dead and then backed out as carefully as we could.”

"Thanks Stanley, you did well. Go ahead and call Doc Bennet and you may as well call the Sheriff too. Dax and Lael, I 'm going to get out and get some stuff, but until I say otherwise, please stay in the car." Jimmy walked around and opened the trunk, pulling out a large case. He walked back to the front of the car, switched on his small flood light and laid the case on the hood.

"O.K., Dax, come on out to the front of the car." Dax got out and came around front. Sensing what Jimmy wanted, Dax held his two hands out, first palms up and then palms down. Jimmy took a look at Dax. "Looks like you know what I'm doing."

Dax nodded before replying, "Yeah, pretty sure."

"Before we get started, I have to ask, have you washed your hands since leaving the site?"

"No, Lael and I both left here and came directly to your station. I didn't pay total attention to the time, but it has been less than 45 minutes ago, so I would guess 4:30 to 4:45."

"Alright Dax, now if you will place your hands, palms down on the hood." Dax did, and Jimmy opened a container and pulled out a stopper with a sticky top. He pressed the sticky top against Dax's hand. The stopper had three segments. Each segment was pressed in a different area. Jimmy performed this procedure on both right and left hands. He then sealed and labeled each container.

"We're done for now, so if you will, just sit back in the car. Lael, you need to come out and we are going to repeat the same procedure." She did so and got back into the car.

Looking at Dax with a quizzical look, she asked, "What was that all about?"

Dax looked at her before replying. "Your friend Jimmy is a little beyond Barney Fife. Firing a gun is a little like opening a champagne bottle. Most of the explosion goes forward, but a little bit of bubbly always comes backwards. What he first did was to visually exam our hands for gunpowder. He then opened up that little kit which is called a gunshot residue kit. The sticky, sterile surface will lift off any traces of gunpowder. The visual exam itself will usually indicate if a gun has been fired. If you've fired a gun within 6 hours, the GSR kit will test positive."

Jimmy gave the kits to Stanley and asked that he personally send them overnight to the crime lab in Atlanta. "Tell them I sent them. I've got some buddies there. They'll turn the results around quickly."

Jimmy opened Dax's door and asked, "How about coming over to the shed with me. We can't enter until the Doc gets here, but I would like a second pair of eyes to look over this. So you were an accountant, hunh?"

Dax chuckled as he replied, "Sure, debits on the left, credits on the right. Jimmy, I was in the Secret Service, which before falling under Homeland Security, was part of the Department of Treasury."

"Unh huh; I don't suppose you were in ASPS?"

"Yes, I was, but I'm a bit surprised that you've heard of it. As a subgroup, not many people know of it."

Carefully opening the door, Jimmy looked at Dax. "I'm not going to be a small town deputy forever. I've taken some advanced training at the FBI academy. One of my instructors mentioned the group. It actually is a bit ironic that we have to wait for the coroner. Much of my training involved crime scene investigation. Once he gets here, I'll be doing all the work. All he'll do is record."

Jimmy took a quick look at the two on the ground and confirmed to Dax. "These are the two I thought. They are bad news and have been in trouble in town a couple of times. It looked like we were going to be able to put them away for assault, but the charges were dropped at the last minute. From here, I would say that Stanley was right. There is a small entry wound to the back of their head. No exit wound suggests small caliber. The powder burns on their skin outside of the entry indicate pretty close range, probably three or four feet. Is that how you see it?"

Nodding, Dax confirmed, "That's exactly how I see it. Because of the pattern of gunpowder burns, I would guess that this was an automatic. If it were a revolver, the pattern would have been more wide spread."

At that moment, the sheriff's car slid to a stop outside of the shack. Dax looked over as Sheriff Bailey got out. It wasn't a time to smile, but he almost could. Bailey was a stereotype of a southern sheriff. He was dressed professionally, but was about forty pounds overweight. He had to move the seat of the car back to get his gut out.

"Officer Dent - Sylvia brought me up to speed on what was going on. I hope that civilian with you ain't Connor! He could be a damn suspect. What have you got?"

"Yes sir, this is Connor. We stopped at the door and illuminated the interior with the small floodlight. Mr. Connor has a background in law enforcement. I thought it might be helpful to have a second pair of trained eyes."

"Stanley, escort Mr. Connor back to the car right now." The Sheriff said this shrilly, almost spitting he was so mad.

"Now, Dent, tell me what you've got."

"I'll summarize as best I can. Those two goons, Jake and Donny work for Boudreaux. You might remember them from earlier in the year. They grabbed Lael as she came out of the newspaper office and hauled her out to the tending station. From what Lael says, they were going to rape her. Since they let her see their faces, she suspects they might have killed her as well. Luckily, Mr. Connor happened along at the right time and stopped them. He tied them up and came straight in to the station. They both indicated that the two might need medical attention, so we came out. When we got here, Stanley informed us that they had both been shot and killed. That's about it. We are waiting for the Doc to do a more thorough exam of the crime scene."

"What you are telling me is that old man sitting in the car took out Jake and Donny without a gun?"

"Yes sir, that's the way it looks."

Bailey walked back over to the car that held Dax and Lael. Looking at Stanley he loudly said, "I want you to read Connor his rights and cuff him. He's under arrest for murder."

Chapter 5
The Plot Thickens

By bhogg

Last Scene: "What you are telling me is that old man sitting in the car took out Jake and Donny without a gun?"

"Yes sir, that's the way it looks."

Bailey walked back over to the car that held Dax and Lael. Looking at Stanley he loudly said, "I want you to read Connor his rights and cuff him. He's under arrest for murder."

******************************************************************

No one moved for a moment. Sheriff Bailey's request to Stanley seemed strange to all.

Jimmy moved toward the Sheriff and putting his hand on his bicep, pulled him over to one side, out of earshot from the others.

"Sheriff, arresting Connor makes no sense at all. We have no evidence whatsoever to link him to the murder of those two. He came to our office on his own volition. "

"Damn it, Dent. Are you trying to tell me how to run this job now? I know you want my job, but I'm not ready to give it up yet."

"I'm not after your job at all. If I were, I'd just let you arrest him. The District Attorney, Charles Lucas, is already pissed at you. He suspects that you dropped the ball on the same two guys who are lying on that floor dead. He thinks you didn't do enough in getting a conviction for battery. If you walk a bogus murder charge in front of him, he's going to grab you by the throat and shake you like a rag doll."

"What makes you so all fire sure Connor didn't kill them? You know that the two dead guys were bad news, so it's just hard to believe he could take them down."

"Let's just say that I've gotten a bit more background on Connor than you. It doesn't surprise me at all that he took them down. Plus, if you arrest Connor, you have to arrest Lael at the same time. They are natural alibis for each other. Before you arrived, I did a visual check for gunpowder; none was evident. We then performed a formal exam with a DSR kit. It should be at GBI in Atlanta tomorrow, and I'll hear back in 48 hours. I'll bet you everything in my pocket that we will get a negative finding. Neither Dax nor Lael fired those shots."

Scowling, the Sheriff tried one more approach. "The two of them had a cell phone. Why didn't they just call you in?"

"That's a legitimate question, and one that I asked Connor on the way out here. He was concerned about Lael and wanted to get her far away from the scene. He was actually quite surprised that our little Lael is as resilient as she is. There are a lot of women who would still be huddled on the ground in a sense of shock."

Grumbling, the Sheriff turned to Stanley and cancelled his previous order. "Mr. Connor, just know that you should not have any plans to leave town until we've completed our investigation. If you don't have a place to stay, we can direct you to a local hotel, or if you want, we can put you in a cell for a couple of days."

With that, Lael loudly interjected, "Neither of those is going to happen! Dax can stay out at our place. We have an extra studio room off the barn."

"Ms. Jackson, I'm not sure that would be a good idea." It was almost like the Sheriff wanted Dax in Jail. "It's just you and your mama out there and you don't know this man at all."

"I know him well enough to know that without him, I'd probably be dead. We'll be fine, and I'm pretty sure that Jimmy wouldn't mind looking in on us."

A smiling Jimmy confirmed that he would. "Stanley, would you please run Dax and Lael out to the Jackson place? The Doc's just pulling up, and I've got to help on this crime scene. It will be late when we wrap all this up, so maybe I can visit with you for breakfast tomorrow."

Smiling back, Lael said, "Jimmy, you know you're welcome any time."

Dax noted more than just a smile between the two and remembered Jimmy's meeting with Lael at the steps of the sheriff's department. Just another part of his past training, behavior observation and analysis; something he was very good at. These two were beyond mere acquaintances.

Getting in to Stanley's car, they headed out to the Jackson place.

"Lael, I'm not being nosy, but when the Sheriff mentioned there were only your mom and yourself, does that mean there isn't a Mr. Jackson?"

"There is a Mr. Jackson. He is alive and well and practicing dentistry in Atlanta. He and my Mom parted ways about eight years ago. It was one of those situations where they just grew apart. To this day, they are still geniunely fond of one another, just not married. In fact, we keep the studio you will be staying in, primarily for my dad. He still visits. When I was younger, a lot more so, but still pretty often. He sends a generous check every month. Mom and I use very little of the money, so there is quite a nice nest egg out there.

"What do you and your mom do for a living?"

"I've been in and out of college, lately more out. Mom owns the newspaper company in town. It does pretty well. She has even won some contests for papers our size. Her editorials are occasionally picked up by the Atlanta or Macon papers. One of the reasons that I'm out of college right now is to help Mom some and just be around. The editorials she has written lately have gotten a lot of people angry. She has even gotten some nasty letters and phone calls.

"What's she writing about?"

"Mainly about drug problems in our town and in the county."

Stanley volunteered, "She has done a real service. In the sheriff's department, we see drug problems every day. The guy or gal on the street has no idea of what's going on. Lael's mom has been instrumental in focusing attention on a growing problem."

Dax took this in before commenting, "Both Jimmy and Lael have mentioned this guy Boudreaux. Is there a connect between he and the drug trade, and in particular, between he and the editorials in the paper."

Stanley hesitated before answering, "That might be something you and Lael want to talk about. I can't say much, because we do have some active investigations going on. If hypothetically, you were just to ask my opinion, I'd say Boudreaux is up to his ass in drugs. The paper hasn't mentioned any names, but the reading between the lines is pretty clear."

"Huh - up to his ass doesn't cover it." Lael was quick and biting on this response. "Mom's not to the point where she can name names, but yesterday's editorial did everything but. It had to do with the explosion of meth, speed, crank, chalk, cristy, or whatever else they are calling it these days. Where she has named names, is for some of the poor souls who have been affected. We've had two young teenagers who have recently died because of meth use. "

"What drives meth in a small town like Hurstville?"

Stanley had a quick reply, "Money. The street price for Methamphetamines is much lower than those for cocaine or heroin. It's safer for the dealer because it can be made locally, it doesn't have to be shipped in from anywhere. We've found Beavis and Butthead labs in car trunks and pick-up's and lab's in little old ladies garages. We bust them and they get re-built."

After pondering all this information for a moment, Dax turned to Lael as he said, "Maybe later, you can ask Jimmy to give you a bit more background on my past life. I used to work for the Government, and without getting into too many details, a lot of what I did was 'connect the dots'. We would take little snippets of information from different sources that alone might be nothing, but viewed together, paint a picture. Your situation here has all sorts of dots."

"I'll sure ask Jimmy, but I'm really confused on what you mean."

"O.K., let's talk through some of the points. The two guys who grabbed you were just found dead and they worked for Boudreaux. Your mom is writing exposes on drug trafficking in your town and county. While not mentioning him by name, there is an implicit understanding thatBoudreaux is involved. Maybe someone didn't want those two guys talking. It is quite possible that you were grabbed yesterday to get at your mom. It's also possible that she could be in danger. Are we close to your place?"

Covering her mouth and with a sharp intake of breath, Lael replied, "We're just pulling up!"

Chapter 6
Arriving Home

By bhogg

*******************************************************************************************************
Posted from previous chapter: "Maybe someone didn't want those two guys talking. It is quite possible that you were grabbed yesterday to get at your mom. It's also possible that she could be in danger. Are we close to your place?"

Covering her mouth and with a sharp intake of breath, Lael replied, "We're just pulling up!"

********************************************************************************************************

You could feel the tension in the car as Stanley drove through the open gate of the Jackson place. It was a few minutes past dusk, but Dax could appreciate the setting. It was an old traditional farmhouse with three dormers and a welcoming wraparound front porch. It was painted a very rustic green. The yard was established, immaculate and well cared for. About thirty yards to the right of the house was a barn with an attached studio.

Coming out of the studio was a woman dressed in jeans and a sweater. With an audible sigh of relief, Lael said, "That's my mom!"

Lael burst from the car ahead of the other two, and the two women eagerly embraced.

Lael's mom started first. "Jimmy and Sylvia have filled me in. It's probably good that I hadn't heard sooner. You would have taken several years from my life. Are you o.k.?"

"Yeah, Mom, I'm fine. Let me introduce you to Dax Connor. If not for him, I wouldn't be here saying I'm fine. Dax, this is my mom Beth."

There was no need for any further introduction. Beth rushed to Dax and threw her arms around him. Within seconds, Dax felt heavy sobs. He didn't back away; he just held Beth, allowing her to rock him side to side. Catching up with snuffles, Beth backed up enough to look up to Dax, as she said, "How can I ever thank you? Beth is all I have left. She is all I have left. Thank you."

Dax backed up a little too, though holding Beth in his arms at a distance. "Beth, I was just the instrument. I'm very familiar with the name Lael, which I know is Hebrew for child of God. You have no idea of how glad that I was to be there." They clutched together again, tears flowed for everyone.

Lael broke the moment. "Mom, Dax brought up the point that maybe those goons picking me up was not an isolated event. Can you give her a 10,000 foot level discussion on what we just talked about in the car?"

"It isn't a really complicated thought. Lael and Stan told me about your newspaper editorials. It could be that you are getting too close to comfort for somebody. Both mentioned this guy Boudreaux and Jimmy confirmed that the two guys found dead worked for him. Way too many coincidences for what's really a small amount of time."

"It could be. I haven't named anyone by name yet, but Boudreaux has his finger in this. I've almost got enough evidence to tie him in, but not quite yet. From what I've found, he is even bigger than we thought. He lives in this area, but is distributing drugs from Macon to Atlanta."

Dax paused before replying, "You're talking about big money. It's the kind of money that causes people to want to hold it and they'll do anything to keep it coming in. It is quite likely that you and Lael are at risk."

Stanley interrupted, "Folks, I've have to get back to the station. Ya'll know that we are only a phone call away. Don't sit on a bad situation by yourself. We can be here in twelve minutes." Stan hugged Lael and shook Dax's hand. "The Sheriff might have expressed some concern with you being here, but I feel a lot better. Ms. Jackson, do you have a gun or two here?"

"I have two handguns that belonged to Luke. They haven't been out of his room for awhile, but we'll take a look at them later after I feed these two." Beth went over and hugged Stanley. "I don't care what that rascal Jimmy Dent says. You're a good man, Stanley Tate." With that, a smiling Stan got in his car, leaving the three in the driveway.

With her arm strung through Lael and Dax's arms, Beth led them into her home. Dax thought the interior fit perfect to the facade. Everything was neat. As he walked through the parlor, he thought how inviting and cozy it all looked. A natural fire had been started, and there was a wonderful aroma wafting through the air. It's hard to mistake how homemade vegetable soup and cornbread smells, and that was exactly the treat that awaited them in the kitchen.

After finishing his second bowl, Dax pushed backed a bit and relaxed. He was trying to remember the last time he was in a private home, eating home cooking and having a conversation with real people. It had been awhile.

Beth interrupted that tiny bit of nostalgia. "Dax, I've set up the studio apartment for you. It's out next to the barn. That's where I was coming from when you came in. I couldn't help but notice that all you came in with was a knapsack. I'm glad to let you borrow some clothes. I think that Luke would have been about your size."

"I've been on the road for awhile, but actually do have two sets of clean underwear and a clean shirt, so I should be o.k. for a bit. Hopefully, I won't have to impose on you for too long. The Sheriff said that I had to stick around until their investigation was done. I've been impressed with Jimmy. He seems quite capable to get the work done in a short time."

Glancing at Lael, Beth replied, "Jimmy is a very good man." Lael blushed.

"I'm not meaning to be nosy, but what brought you through Hurstsville?"

Dax took a sip of hot coffee before replying, "It's a real complicated story. Maybe in short form, I could tell you that some bad things happened to me. My wife and daughter were murdered by terrorists."

"Oh, that is awful, I am so sorry!"

With another sip, Dax continued, "It's a bit more complicated. They were murdered to get to me. That is why I am a bit sensitive to the predicament you find yourself in. I worked for the Government at the time and in a position where I was responsible for slowing or shutting down bad guys."

"Did they ever find out who killed your wife and daughter?"

"Let's just say that they were dealt with. I was ordered to stay out of it and for the most part, given a desk job. I'm old school. When ordered to do something, I do it. One night, three of the terrorists visited my house to finish what they started. Also old school, I had made some security enhancements at my house. The minute they walked through the front door, I was ready for them and they were dealt with."

Lael, who had been sitting on the edge of her chair blurted out, "How?"

Closing his eyes, and in a voice almost too low to hear, Dax, said, "I killed them."

There was a pause that was almost stiflingly silent. All you could hear was the grandfather clock and a drip in the kitchen sink. Finally, Lael asked, "Wasn't that o.k. with the Government? They weren't there for a social call."

"One of the reasons I was asked to stay away from it, was one of the guys I killed was the son of an Ambassador from Jordan. He also was a double agent who supposedly fed us with a lot of sensitive information. He was definitely a hands-off guy. The Agency was pretty upset, and the proverbial 'stuff" hit the fan. They would of thrown the book at me, but at least I had one friend high up in the hierarchy who helped."

Beth, now engrossed as well, asked, "Who was that?"

"The senior Senator from Mississippi, John Andrews. He is currently chairing the Senate Intelligence Committee. I was responsible for helping his daughter get out of a serious mess a few years earlier. Many politicians would have forgotten, but not John. As it was, I still got my hand slapped a bit, but managed to get a full medical retirement from the Secret Service. At my level in the Agency, it has allowed me to live pretty well."

Beth looked at Dax as she questioned, "It doesn't make sense that they would have done anything at all. It sounds like you were just defending your home and yourself."

"Thanks Beth, I appreciate that, but in things like this, you have to know the rest of the story. You see, I had subdued the ambassador's son, so he posed no threat to me at all. He was cuffed and lying on the floor. He looked up at me and said he wasn't going to squeal and beg for his life like my daughter did. I shot him, shattering his femur bone. I then ground his femur under my foot. This is an excruciating and slow way to kill some one. Sometimes at night, I can still hear the screams. I'm not proud of it."

No one said anything for what seemed like minutes, but was more likely just a few seconds. Dax finally continued, "Knowing that little bit about me, if you would rather me stay somewhere else, I can certainly afford a hotel."

Chapter 7
Acceptance

By bhogg

From Previous Chapter:

"Thanks Beth, I appreciate that, but in things like this, you have to know the rest of the story. You see, I had subdued the ambassador's son, so he posed no threat to me at all. He was cuffed and lying on the floor. He looked up at me and said he wasn't going to squeal and beg for his life like my daughter did. I shot him, shattering his femur bone. I then ground his femur under my foot. This is an excruciating and slow way to kill some one. Sometimes at night, I can still hear the screams. I'm not proud of it."

No one said anything for what seemed like minutes, but was more likely just a few seconds. Dax finally continued, "Knowing that little bit about me, if you would rather me stay somewhere else, I can certainly afford a hotel."

********************************************************************

The silence was palpable. Dax started to get up and gather his things to leave. In almost eerie unison, Beth and Lael stood and moved behind his chair.

Beth, with her hand on Dax's shoulder, softly said, "We don't judge you. No one should have had to live through the kind of hell you endured with your wife and daughter. In a way, we have a bond. Terrorists robbed the love from your life and they took our Luke."

With a strong sigh, Beth went on. "There is one thing that you need to know though."

"What's that, Beth?"

"You need to know that this is Georgia. This is the deep South. Around here, watch dogs don't sleep outside. Around here, watch dogs sleep in the big house. You can sleep in Luke's room." There was a moment of silence, and then all three burst out in laughter.

Dax really needed this. The previous discussion took him back to the dark side. The spontaneous laughter brought him back. For the first time in a long time, he felt he was with friends. Part of his training was to assess people in a hurry. These two rated high on his internal radar.

Lael looked over at her mom and Dax. "Guys, this has been one hell of a day. If you don't mind, I'm going to go take a long hot bath and crawl into bed. Before I go, Dax, I hope you don't mind if I give you a big hug."

"I'd be a fool to mind."

As Lael left, Dax started cleaning the table and scraping and rinsing bowls. With few words, he and Beth worked together. It was an embarrassing habit, but he was watching her work out of the corner of his eye. You can tell a lot about people from watching how they work. Beth never stopped; just constant motion. She never had just one single thing in her hands, always something in each one. She had staged the dishes to be washed, first glasses, followed by plates and utensils and then the heavy pots. She suddenly stopped and looking at Dax, she asked, "What in the world are you doing? You are watching my every move."

Dax chuckled. "Sorry I'm so obvious. I must be out of practice. In my old career, watching, observing and categorizing people was a large part of what I did."

"Okay, Mr. Profiler. What can you tell about me from watching me clean up?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"Yes."

"Okay. You are a highly organized. As I watched you stage your dishes and things, you perform tasks in a highly analytical way. You're a bit of an enigma in that unlike most highly organized individuals, you have a great deal of compassion and empathy. Most behavior is not polar, but a blend .... "

"That's enough, Dax." Beth was chuckling when she said this. "I'm just not sure that I can digest all of this tonight, but for the most part, I'd say you are pretty accurate. Before we fall asleep standing up, why don't we sit down, have one more cup of decaf and take a look at those guns I told Stan about."

Beth left, returning with an old army ammo crate. She opened it up and removed two handguns that were inside, wrapped in lightly oiled cloths. "I don't know anything about guns, but these belonged to Luke."

Dax took the two guns. "Luke knew what he was doing. Both of these are fine guns. They were cleaned, oiled and put away properly. The large gun is a Colt, .45 caliber, Model M1911. The smaller is a Smith & Wesson 38 special, double action, small internal hammer, chambered for five rounds."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that they will do quite nicely."

"Dax, I'm hoping that we won't need guns, but maybe it's a good idea for you to have one for the night and me the other. I know nothing about guns, so what do you suggest?"

"The small 38 is much better for you. This is one of the best guns in the world for personal protection. It's not loaded now, so pick it up and feel it."

"It feels pretty good." Beth had grasped the handle and pointed the gun toward the back door. "It really isn't that heavy."

"It will be heavier when it's loaded, but not much. Point it at the back door and pull the trigger a couple of times." Beth did, and the revolver clicked empty on each advancing cylinder. "That's all there is to that particular gun. Think about it being an extension of your arm and point as if you were pointing your finger. Just click and shoot. It will be fairly accurate in short distance situations, which is all you will need. If you ever have to fire it, don't get fancy. Your largest target is the trunk of the human body, from below the head to above the legs. That 38 special round will take a person down with any shot in that area. I'll take the 45."

"Do you know how to use the 45 okay?"

Dax smiled. "Yes, I'm quite familiar with this particular gun." What he didn't tell her, was that using his left hand, he would probably be a better shot than anyone in the county. With his right, or natural hand, only one or two people in the world would be a better shot. Dax took a few minutes and loaded each gun. He handed the 38 to Beth and stuck the 45 behind his back, under his belt.

Looking around, Dax said, "It might be a good idea to give me a walk through of the house. In particular, I want to know where the different rooms are and all doors and windows to the outside." As they walked through, Dax checked each door and window to make sure it was locked. They finished up outside of Luke's room.

Beth opened the door and walked Dax in. "As you can see, this is across the house from where Lael and I are, so you're kind of by yourself. It has its own bathroom. The sheets are clean and you have towels and wash cloths. You should be set."

Dax smiled. "I should be just fine. It means a lot to me that the two of you trust me enough to put me under your roof."

In a complete surprise, Beth stepped close to Dax and hugged him, lightly kissing him on the cheek. Backing away, with tears in her eyes, Beth said, "What means a lot is that you saved my daughter and brought her home to me. I'll never forget what you did. Good night, Dax." Turning and leaving the room, Beth looked back one last time and gave a small wave.

Dax waved back. He thought about how she looked, from the first time her saw her walking across the yard, until just now. Beth was a beautiful woman. He guessed her to be about fifty. To Dax, fifty was the perfect age for women ... then they just got better and better. He went to bed with a smile and a stirring he hadn't felt in a quite some time.

Going to sleep under any circumstance was second nature for Dax. When you have a chance to sleep, take it. You never know when the next opportunity might arise. He had gone to sleep with the sound of artillery fire, people yelling and claxons blaring. Those were noises appropriate to the circumstance, so didn't bother him at all. The sound he now heard snapped him awake immediately. It was a sound he knew quite well. Someone was using a set of lock picks on the front door, and one tumbler had just sprung.

Chapter 8
Old Friends

By bhogg

From previous chapter: Going to sleep under any circumstance was second nature for Dax. When you have a chance to sleep, take it. You never know when the next opportunity might arise. He had gone to sleep with the sound of artillery fire, people yelling and claxons blaring. Those were noises appropriate to the circumstance, so didn't bother him at all. The sound he now heard snapped him awake immediately. It was a sound he knew quite well. Someone was using a set of lock picks on the front door, and one tumbler had just sprung.

**************************************************************

Dax moved quickly out of the bed and headed toward the front door. Dressed in boxer shorts and a Tee Shirt, carrying a 45 pistol, he felt ill prepared for the encounter. As he walked down the hallway, he switched off the nightlight. His mind was racing, trying to decide the best course of action. If the guy trying to pick that lock is any good, it won't take more than sixty seconds. It's way too late to call 911 or wake Beth and Lael. I'm going to have to let whoever is out there come in. If I'm lucky, it will be one guy.

The front door opened directly into the large parlor. Dax positioned himself 12 feet back and about 45 degrees to the right of the door. The room was darkened, so this positioning put him out of a direct sight line. He had chambered a round before going to sleep, so the gun was ready. He held it comfortably in front of him, slightly above waist level.

With one more click of the lock pick, the door started to open very slowly. Too early to tell if there was only one person, but the one coming in pushed the door inward toward the hinges. This was meant to minimize the door squeaking. If he wasn't wearing tactical gear, he was at least wearing a low sheen, dark outfit and soft, black leather, rubber soled shoes. The way he moved and looked screamed professional. It didn't look like he had a gun, but was carrying a thick manila file folder in his left hand. Dax just stood still, thinking, What in the hell is this guy up to? May as well let it play out a little and see where it goes.

The intruder walked in to the room and placing the manila folder on top of a sofa table, he turned back toward the door. After that move, Dax switched on a light and commanded, "Stop right there. Put your hands up and lock them tight behind your head. If you make a single movement other than that, I'll shoot you without hesitation."

The intruder did exactly as instructed. Turning toward Dax, he said, "Dax Connor, is that you?"

Incredulous, Dax responded, "Yeah, Gus, it's me."

At that moment, Beth walked in. She had the 38 in her hand. "What's going on? Boudreaux, what are you doing in my home? Dax, how do you know this guy?"

Dax grunted. "Gus, you are going to have to answer the first two questions, which are pretty damn good questions. The only one that I can handle is the third one."

"I'll do the best I can on the questions. Can I put my arms down?"
.
"Tell you what. You take your hands down nice and slow, shut the front door, place your hands against it and assume the position, legs spread. I'm sure you know the drill."

He did, and Dax walked over and gave his body a thorough pat down. No guns or other weapons.

Beth could stand it no longer. "Okay, this is getting stranger and stranger. Somebody needs to start answering some questions."

Dax looked over at Beth and then looked down at his outfit. "Let me go throw a pair of pants on and maybe we can make some sense out of this."

Gus pushed back from the door. As he did, Dax barked, "Stay right there until I come back. Beth, if he moves, shoot him like I showed you."

Dax rushed back to his room, threw on a pair of pants and returned in about ten seconds. He took a glance at Gus before saying, "All right, you can put your hands down. Even though I only know the answer to the last question, let me start. Since the beginning, Lael, Jimmy and now you mentioned Boudreaux. Beth and Jimmy announced his name as Paul. The man in this room is a man I knew by the name of Gustave Boudreaux. He was a DEA Agent working out of Louisiana. I did hear that he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar and was fired from the agency. Okay, Gus, fill in some blanks for us."

"Okay, why not. My given name is Gustave Paul Boudreaux. Gustave is a common name in Louisiana. Not so much here, so I just reverted to Paul. Talk about fired Dax; I heard you got fired from the agency for whacking some foreign dignitaries' son."

"Alright Gus, or Paul, we're not talking about me now. Why don't you answer Beth's question."

"I can do that, but it's not going to be a short story. Is there any way we can sit down?"

Dax looked at her. "Beth?"

"Well, we can sit at the kitchen table. That way, if I have to shoot Boudreaux, the blood won't get on the carpet. Sit there, with your hands palm down, flat on the table."

Hearing this, Dax, struggled hard not to grin. The more he was around Beth, the more he liked her.

Beth looked at the clock on the wall. It was 4:00 am. "Do you think we should call Jimmy?"

He pondered this a moment before replying, "Let's see what he's got to say. We can always call Jimmy in. Okay Gus, let's start with question one. Why are you here?"

"I wanted to bring some information by for Beth and the newspaper. The two guys who grabbed Lael yesterday used to work for me. They were supposed to get this information to you through Lael. I wanted her grabbed, but only to get this file to you."

"That doesn't make much sense. My understanding is that Beth was writing an expose on drugs here in the City and County. Wouldn't your name have come up?"

"Most likely it would have, but I'm not the only game in town."

Beth had pulled out a micro-recorder and asked Gus, "What do you mean? Who else would be here?"

"Beth, I'm going to ask you to turn off the recorder. Much of what you will want to know is going to be in the folder. The rest, you are just going to have to listen and mentally file it away. Is that a deal?" Beth turned off the recorder.

"Dax knows me from DEA days. I think I got a raw deal, but that's a whole other story. The bottom line is that I crossed to the other side. Why not? Over time, I learned who had what kind of stuff, what it would cost and what the market would pay for it. I settled in this area and was making a good living. If you bought marijuana anywhere between Macon and Atlanta, it was a pretty good chance that it came from me. We had a couple of big dollar clients for cocaine, but that was it. We never sold crack and we never sold meth. I found myself a big fish in a little pond, and it suited me fine. You might think I'm scum, but we did have some standards."

Beth snorted. "So, what happened? All my research shows there is a bunch of crack and lately, a bunch of meth in the area. Where's it coming from?"

"Ah - now you are getting to what's in the folder. The way this Country seems to work is things start in California and the West Coast, and sooner or later comes East. Later is here now. Have you ever heard about the Mexican drug cartels and specifically, Felix Mendez?"

"Of course I have, so yes to both. Are you telling me that the cartels are now operating in this area?"

"That's what I'm telling you. You'll have plenty of proof in the folder. They aren't after this market. They are really after the big nut, Atlanta. The fact is though, they can schmooze right in to here, absorb my market and be well positioned to move on to Atlanta. They need to be stopped."

With that, Dax, had to stop the conversation. "Surely, you don't expect Beth to print something that will help you and hurt the Mexican's?"

Gus chuckled. "That would be great, but I know that ain't gonna happen. The fact is, I've got plenty of money squirreled away in the Cayman Islands. Dax, like you, I know how to hide money, where if I don't want it found, it's not going to be found. The problem is that these guys are stone cold killers. They are the ones who popped my two guys."

"When I asked them to pick Lael up, they were taking a copy of what's in the folder to the Mexicans. I can tell you that it was never my intention that Lael be harmed in any way. I didn't kill the two, but given what they attempted to do, I can't say I feel much sympathy. They were killed because the cartel did not want you to have this information and they didn't want any names revealed."

There was silence. Gus finally continued. "I would like to ask you to read the contents of the file and then we can get back together and talk. Feel free to share it with the authorities. You would be totally in your rights to have me arrested right now. At this point, if arrested, I would be charged with breaking and entering. I was unarmed, didn't steal anything, damage anything or hurt anyone. I would be out on the street within three hours."

Beth looked over at Dax who gave a slight nod. "Okay, Boudreaux, for now we'll play it your way. You can leave."

As he got up to leave, Dax stood up. "Gus, I don't know if you got a bad shake from the DEA or not; don't know and don't care. You know me better than most people. You know what I'm capable of, don't you?

"Yeah, I do, Dax."

"Then you know what's going to happen if Beth or Lael are harmed in any way, and there is even a hint that you're involved?"

"Yeah, I most certainly do. I'll let myself out if that's okay." Boudreaux got up, walked out of the kitchen, through the parlor. He stopped at the door and turned. "Believe it or not, Dax, it was good seeing you. The one case we worked on together was a good one. Hopefully, you'll remember that part of the life of Gustave Paul Boudreaux."

Gus walked out the door. It was pitch black, so he turned on a micro light on his keychain. He walked out toward the road, guided by the distant tip of a lit cigarette. Someone was waiting for him.

,

Chapter 9
Enigma

By bhogg

Background
Dax Connor rescued Lael Jackson from an attempted rape, subduing the two assailants, who were later found dead. Dax has been charged to stay in town until the investigation in complete. Lael has invited him to stay with her mom and herself. Characters are listed below.

From Previous Chapter. Boudreaux got up, walked out of the kitchen, through the parlor. He stopped at the door and turned. "Believe it or not, Dax, it was good seeing you. The one case we worked on together was a good one. Hopefully, you'll remember that part of the life of Gustave Paul Boudreaux."

Gus walked out the door. It was pitch black, so he turned on a micro light on his keychain. He walked out toward the road, guided by the distant tip of a lit cigarette. Someone was waiting for him.

************************************************

Gus was slow and careful. Even with the micro light, it was awkward walking across a dirt and gravel driveway in the pitch black darkness. He stumbled once over a tree root. When he approached his car, he saw a cigarette flipped, sparks spinning end over end into the darkness.

"So, how did it go?" This question, came from the dim outline of a person outside his car. "Was it the guy you thought?" Alden Bishop was waiting for Gus. With the demise of Donny and Jake, Alden was about as close to a muscle man as Gus had left. He did not have the size of the two departed, but made up for that in smarts and meanness.

"Yeah, it was. From the description and the first name Dax, it almost had to be him. This could change the rules of the game. I worked with Dax back in the day. He was an incredibly thorough agent. Maybe he won't hang around too long."

"Do you want me to kill him?"

"Not yet. If we play our cards right, he might live up to an old Chinese proverb. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. I wouldn't volunteer too quickly. Donny and Jake weren't pushovers, and he apparently ate their lunch."

************************

Dax and Beth looked at each other. Beth finally broke the silence. "Well, that's not something you see every day. A burglar, who turns out to not be a burglar, breaking in not to steal something, but leave something behind. To top it off, carried out by who we thought was the local drug kingpin but who turns out to be an ex-DEA agent that you know. I guess in your line of work, this sort of thing happens all the time?"

"I've been surprised in my life many times, but if you had seen the look on my face when Gus turned around, it alone would answer your question. I was totally blown away."

Beth, sighed. "It is now 4:30 a.m. Jimmy is coming by for breakfast at 8:00. What should we do between now and then?"

Dax thought for a moment before answering. "I'm up and wired now. It was a long yesterday, so why don't you go back to bed? I think that maybe I'm just going to start going through this file that Gus left."

"After all that excitement, there's no way I'm going back to sleep. Why don't I start some coffee, and we can split up the file?"

"Beth, if you're sure. I certainly don't mind giving this a start. Some of it looks to be written in cop talk. It might be easier for me to wander through it and give you and Jimmy a report at 8:00."

"It's okay. Why don't you take a look and think of some logical way to split it up. As long as we're up, perhaps we should have some breakfast now. Lael won't mind cooking for Jimmy when he gets here. Is bacon, eggs and toast okay?"

"Absolutely, as long as we can wash it down with some coffee."

The two began puttering around the kitchen as if they had known each other forever. Dax splitting the paperwork and starting the coffee, Beth, the food. In the middle of the preparation, she found herself looking at Dax. Perhaps he felt the stare, because he looked over and asked, "What?"

"Oh, Nothing." Beth turned a bit red, but didn't think Dax noticed. It would have been embarrassing to admit that she was thinking of the way he looked in his boxers and tee-shirt.

Dax was trained to notice. He had a thought of his own. Beth had put a robe on, but when she walked out earlier in a thin cotton nightgown, the light behind her provided a backdrop that outlined a pretty special body. He smiled.

They ate, drank some coffee and perused the file. Both were trained to read, push through the trash, and isolate things of importance. Beth had split up some post-it red flags, so the pages were getting flagged with areas to re-visit. This went on for about thirty minutes. Beth finally broke the silence.

"I'm finding some tidbits, but have come across nothing like a smoking gun. It is some information that I think Jimmy will be interested to read, but no real shattering revelations. It's almost like Boudreaux wanted to feed us enough to look in other areas, but like that old television commercial, Where's the Beef?"

"I think you are right, Beth. Why don't we take a break and we can pick this back up when Jimmy get's here. I'd like to get a bit of exercise, shower, get in some clean clothes and welcome a new day."

"You're kidding about the exercise, right?"

"No. It's an old habit that I can't break."

"Well, you go ahead. I'm definitely going to do the shower and clean clothes bit. We can all circle back together when Jimmy gets here."

Beth headed back to her bedroom. She passed Lael on the way. "Mom, why are you already up?"

"It's a long story. Dax and I have both been up for awhile. I'll fill you in when Jimmy gets here. Plan on breakfast just for the two of you. Dax and I have already eaten."

With a raised eyebrow, Lael, asked, "Oh?"

"Like I said, long story. It will keep until Jimmy gets here."

The house was built around old southern plans and was understated in many ways. That did not include the bathrooms. Beth was in the master. The shower had several high pressure heads and would pulse you from three sides. She had the temperature at a point so high, her skin was radiating. After a few minutes, she turned the water down to ice cold. She was actually thinking, I won't be able to do this for many more years. I could have a heart attack.

After this pleasure / torture session she resumed her schedule. She justified the extra time with hair and makeup due to Jimmy's visit.

She went over to the bay window in the bedroom and sat on the built-in bench. Opening the drapes, she could look out to the barn. The large double doors were open and the large barn light was on. She could see Dax going through what was almost a choreographed set of movements. She realized that he was doing Tai Chi. Oddly enough, she had recently starting taking Tai Chi at her local health club. Beth realized what she had been doing was stumbling around to Chinese music. Dax was doing something close to an art form.

Beth was intent on watching and didn't realize that Lael had walked up behind her. She was startled when Lael said, "Hey Mom, he's pretty cute in those jeans and tee shirt, huh?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I was just sitting here brushing my hair out. Dax told me he was going to exercise. I didn't even know where he was. Don't think that I don't see you peeking at Jimmy sometimes."

"Well Mom, I most certainly do. I have to tell you though, seeing that old man out there with those cool moves, old Jimmy boy better watch out."

Beth stood up and she and Lael hugged each other, both giggling like schoolgirls.

******************************

Every town has its "Other side of the tracks." Hurstville was no different. The sun was just coming up as Deputy Stanley Tate was literally driving over those tracks. He was responding to a citizen call regarding gun shots. This part of town was like so many others in the South. Old abandoned cotton warehouses, boarded up buildings with taped and broken windows and trash and litter on the street.

With Stanley was another officer, Nikki Tate. She was one of the few female officers. Stanley was always glad when they could partner up. Not only was she competent, she was pretty easy to look at. He found himself doing that right now, with a slight smile. He was thinking, Nikki and Jimmy could be poster children for what a police officer should look like. Her uniform was spotless, with creases you could cut butter with. Her shoes were spit shined. Correctly positioned around her waist was one of the new Glock automatic pistols. Their office had just been authorized to receive these. Stanley decided to stay with his tried and true, Smith and Wesson, 38 Police Special Revolver.

Nikki looked over at Stanley. "Why do you have that sly grin? You're not looking at my butt again are you?"

"Nikki, I'm surprised you would ask that. You are sitting down after all."

Nikki chuckled. "Okay. I just wouldn't want a man of your advanced years to have a stroke." Nikki could smile. Unlike some of the other officer's, she felt totally comfortable around Stanley. They could kid around, but he never treated her with anything other than respect. It was mutual.

They drove up to an old, abandoned warehouse that fit the approximate location of the gunshots. Stepping out of the car, Stanley said to Nikki, "Why don't you position yourself around the front of the facade. I'm going to go around back. There is a side window about 5 feet off the ground and the old loading dock entrance. Let's be real careful with this. Tactical radios on and guns drawn since we don't know what to expect."

"Okay. You're not giving me the easy part because I'm a girl, are you?"

"Absolutely not. If there is someone still in the warehouse, they'll be bailing out through that front door. I'm putting you there because you're a better shot."

Stanley moved in a measured and deliberate fashion down the alley between the warehouse and adjacent building. He had done this hundreds of times, usually finding nothing. Over the clean, morning air, he smelled something that was out of place, propane, chlorine and ammonia. The distinctive smell of cooking methamphetamine. He clicked back to Nikki. "You better call for back up. I think we have ourselves a meth lab."

Chapter 10
Explosion

By bhogg

Background: Dax Connor rescued Lael Jackson from an attempted rape, subduing the two assailants, who were later found dead. Dax has been charged to stay in town until the investigation in complete. Lael has invited him to stay with her mom and herself. Dax inadvertently finds himself dropped right in the middle of a complicated drug conspiracy. Characters are listed below.

From Previous Chapter: Stanley moved in a measured and deliberate fashion down the alley between the warehouse and adjacent building. He had done this hundreds of times, usually finding nothing. Over the clean, morning air, he smelled something that was out of place, propane, chlorine and ammonia. The distinctive smell of cooking methamphetamine. He clicked back to Nikki. "You better call for back up. I think we have ourselves a meth lab."

It was about 7:45 am, when Dax finished having his shower and changed into fresh clothes. He headed toward the kitchen for another cup of coffee. Past the hall and through the kitchen door, he saw Lael and Deputy Jimmy Dent in a more than platonic hug. He smiled. I knew there was something there.

He coughed for effect as he greeted the two. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Dax." Jimmy flushed red. "I've learned a couple of things this morning. First, that you slept in the big house last night and second, you got up unexpectedly early. Sounds like maybe I should have spent the night over here as well."

With a grin, Leal, responded, "Well, you definitely would have spent the night in the barn."

"Maybe. Dax, I can't help but ask, do you think letting Boudreaux walk out of here was the right thing to do?"

Dax, helped himself to coffee before responding. "We could have held him and given you a call. What would have gone down?"

"Not much really. We obviously could have booked him on breaking and entering. Although we might suspect him of things, his record is clean. Not only as a citizen, but other than one black question mark, a good record as a Drug Enforcement Agency operative. He'd be on the street in 48 hours. Beth told me earlier that you know the guy."

"Yes, I do. Lael, do you remember me telling you at supper about the one friend I had in high places, Senator John Andrews from Mississippi?"

"I do."

"A few years ago, there was an attempt being made to blackmail the Senator for some supposed drug involvement by his daughter. The story was that she was involved with some big time distribution and also some big time partying. All captured on video. From the Secret Service side, I was involved with investigating the blackmail. Boudreaux was investigating the drug side with DEA. We worked closely and successfully on this case."

Beth walked in to the kitchen after this revelation. "What did he seem like to work with?"

After a sip of coffee, Dax responded, "I regarded him as a capable agent. He seemed patient and thorough. His expertise and experience helped me clear up the blackmail situation and wound up gathering sufficient information to put some bad guys in jail."

Lael blurted out, "What makes someone change like that?"

"It's a good question. I don't know all the facts, only what I heard. Law enforcement is often involved with the seizure of illicit money. Apparently, Boudreaux was involved in a case where a bunch of drug money had been seized and impounded. I'm not sure it was ever conclusively proven, since Gus never did jail time, but all indications were that he took the money. In any event, he was released from the DEA, and I'm pretty sure he didn't get the gold watch."

"I'm not defending Boudreaux in any way, but I know I've had my hands on millions of dollars of terrorist money. I think anybody in that position has to be thinking that they risk their lives every day for a paycheck smaller than most of their neighbors and friends."

With this, Jimmy looked up. "What happened to those millions that were in your hands?"

Dax smiled. "You should ask the 400 Secret Service agents who got brand new, state of the art, ballistic vests. If you don't get an answer from them, ask the 200 agents who got the new Glock model 20, 10 millimeter pistols. We sure as hell didn't dump that money back into the general fund. I always found a certain irony in using seized terrorist money to fund anti-terrorist activity."

With that, Jimmy chuckled. "Do you suppose you could hang around here for awhile? We could sure use a new squad car or two."

"I wasn't planning on sticking around. Which brings to me ask, when do you expect to get me cleared enough so the Sheriff won't mind me leaving town?"

"The Georgia Bureau of Investigation usually turns around the DSR check for gunpowder residue in 48 hours. Some guys I know are going to turn it around faster than that. I think we'll hear back by late afternoon."

Beth looked right at Dax when she asked, "Where are you headed when you leave from here?"

Shaking his head side to side, Dax answered, "I don't know Beth, I truly don't know."

*****************************************

With the request for back-up in, Stanley decided to see if he could peer into the warehouse. Crouching, he approached the single, side window. Removing his cap, he raised up ever so slowly. The sun was coming up from behind the building and wasn't up high enough to throw light through the skylights. Along with dimness, the window was caked with years of dust. Peering over the sill, Stanley could see what looked to be propane tanks in the corner by the back entrance. There were some other barrels and debris on the floor, along with what appeared to be ten or so car batteries. Two crude tables had been assembled by using boxes and old doors. The tables were covered with various containers and tubing. What Stan's nose had told him, his eyes now confirmed. This was a meth lab and not too small.

Straining, Stan looked to the right of the furthermost table. What he saw, he didn't like. There were two bodies on the ground. Beneath the head of each body, there was what appeared to be a spreading pool of ink. Stan knew it wasn't ink. Crouching back down, Stan hustled back out toward the front where Nikki was.

"Nikki, I just visually confirmed that someone was probably cooking methamphetamines here recently. I also confirmed that there are at least two guys on the floor who aren't moving. It looks like head shots again, so I doubt if they're alive. What did you find out about the back-up?"

"They should be here any minute. Jimmy Dent heard we were coming over here and already asked that back-up be sent. It should be the Bunn boys."

Scott and Terry Bunn were not brothers. In fact, the only thing they had in common was a last name. Scott was ex-military, an old MP instructor from Fort Gordon, GA. Terry recently finished the advanced law enforcement class at the local tech school. He completed the training for deputy and had been off his probationary period for two months. He was a kid who wanted to be a cop all his life. Stan thought, not perfect, but doable. I'll take Terry with me and leave Scott to provide back-up with Nicki.

The other car pulled up in a perfectly executed arrival. They came in as silent as possible, parking about a block away. As the two arrived, Stan brought them up to speed and outlined the plan.

"Scott, I want you to position yourself to the side of the building so you can cover both front and back. Nikki, you need to stay toward the front. There is an abandoned lift truck that should give you good cover. Terry and I will go in through the back dock double doors. I took a peek at them. There is a good sized gap between the doors and it looks open. If it is locked, the lock is probably as rusty as everything else around here, so we can probably push it open. Terry, I want you to stand to my left and cover my right side. I'll enter into the doors and fan out and cover the left side. You come behind me and move to the right."

Terry beamed. "That's an enter and cover technique we learned in school."

Stan answered patiently, "Just remember, that was school and this is the real world. There is no such thing as a totally predictable situation. Just follow me and do what I say. We'll be fine."

Terry and Stan crouched and sprinted to the back door, handguns out. They arrived at the back double doors. Stan was taking a moment to catch his breath. Terry wasn't even breathing hard.

"Alright, Terry, here we go." Stan shoved the door open and bounded into the room. All of a sudden, he felt a hand grab the back of his jacket. With a great deal of force, he was jerked off his feet, backward through the double doors and out over the back concrete dock. Before he even had time to think, there was a loud explosion, followed quickly by an even bigger explosion and fireball. Stan found himself groggy, dazed, and hard of hearing. Oddly enough, he was laying on top of Terry on the ground outside and below the loading dock. He heard Terry groan.

Scott rushed around to the back where they were lying. He looked to have a slight head cut and was bleeding. "Are you two okay?"

Stan rolled off of Terry and felt himself all over. "I don't think anything is busted. How about you, Terry?"

"Well, I'm a hell of a lot better now that you're not on top of me. You need to start eating salads for lunch. You're heavy."

Helping each other up, Stan asked, "How did we get on the ground there?"

Scott answered this one. "I watched you two burst through the door, and all of a sudden, Terry had you by the jacket, jerking you out and onto the ground."

With a puzzled look, Stan asked Terry, "How did you know to jerk me out?"

"When you went through the door, the sunlight lit up a trip wire about five inches off the ground. Opening the door pushed the wire forward. I just grabbed your jacket and pulled for all I was worth."

"How did you know anything about trip wires?"

Smiling, Terry answered, "Just something else we learned in school. Where there's a trip wire, there's often a big old boom waiting to happen."

Author Notes List of Characters:
Dax Connor - medically retired from Secret Service
Lael Jackson - 20 year old lady that Dax rescued
Jimmy Dent - Deputy
Sheriff Bailey - Sheriff with some questionable background
Stanley Tate - Deputy
Boudreaux - Local drug kingpin
Beth Jackson - Lael's mother
Alden Bishop - Boudreaux henchmen
Nikki James - Female sheriff deputy
Scott Bunn - deputy
Terry Bunn - deputy (no relation to Scott)

Chapter 11
Day 2

By bhogg

Background: Dax Connor rescued Lael Jackson from an attempted rape, subduing the two assailants, who were later found dead. Dax has been charged to stay in town until the investigation in complete. Lael has invited him to stay with her mom and herself. Dax inadvertently finds himself dropped right in the middle of a complicated drug conspiracy. Characters are listed in author notes.

From the Last Chapter: Terry and Stan crouched and sprinted to the back door, handguns out. They arrived at the back double doors. Stan was taking a moment to catch his breath. Terry wasn't even breathing hard.

"Alright, Terry, here we go." Stan shoved the door open and bounded into the room. All of a sudden, he felt a hand grab the back of his jacket. With a great deal of force, he was jerked off his feet, backward through the double doors and out over the back concrete dock. Before he even had time to think, there was a loud explosion, followed quickly by an even bigger explosion and fireball. Stan found himself groggy, dazed, and hard of hearing. Oddly enough, he was lying on top of Terry on the ground outside and below the loading dock. He heard Terry groan.

*************************************************

The Sheriff's office was tobacco free. A lot of good it did. The room reeked of smoke from over 60 years of cigarettes, cigars, pipes, chew and everything in between. Sheriff, Alva Bailey, sat in his leather judge's chair, arms on the arm rests and a gut that almost made it impossible to pull his chair close. The big wooden desk was covered with burn marks and rings from a thousand coffee cups. The cherry wood Regulator Clock on the wall was lending its repetitive cadence to the otherwise silent room. Bailey wondered how he sat in the same room with the clock for 20 years and never heard it. This morning, it was annoying in its presence. As he sat there, he wondered, what the hell is happening to me?

As in many Southern towns, the position of Sheriff was an elected one. Bailey sat there thinking, even that new guy, Terry Bunn has more formal training than I do. Bunn had two years of college, directed toward law enforcement and had to take the State mandated training. Alva was required to take some courses and go to some conventions, but it galled him to think that his training was probably the least in the entire department. At least I've been reelected five times. Who cares that my original background was dairy farmer?

Alva pulled his service revolver out and placed it on top of his desk. It's strange that he and one of his senior officers, Stanley Tate, were the only two in the department who had not chosen the new Glock nine millimeter automatic. I guess two old farts are just used to the tried and true. Alva lifted the pistol off the desk and bounced its heft in his hand. The handle was of wood, the pistol and barreling were blued steel. He thought, that frigging Glock is like a toy from Mattel. The damn thing isn't even all metal.

Alva was in the office because he had picked up on the scanner in his home that a two car operation was going on in the warehouse district. It was unbelievable to him that he hadn't been called. In the old days, people didn't even fart in public without him being notified. Now there was an operation going on involving two cars and four of his officers and he didn't even know what was going on. What the hell, I know why. They don't trust me anymore.

Bailey's wife Loretta had been diagnosed with Pancreatic Cancer about 18 months ago. She had always been the picture of health, not so much as a headache. This was something they just couldn't control. The local docs and the ones in Atlanta had basically given up. When the recommendation of M.D. Anderson in Houston came up, he jumped on it. The insurance was a problem, because the treatment was supposedly experimental. Paul Boudreaux approached him with an offer to help him pay for the treatment. What could be wrong with that? The County wasn't doing anything. He knew Boudreaux primarily through the Chamber of Commerce. After all, he owned the local hardware store and was part owner of a car dealership. Alva took the money. It was for Loretta. Deep down, he knew that Boudreaux was more than a local business man. He was a crook and was selling narcotics. After the money, the requests seemed innocuous. Not so much to do something illegal, just turn an eye. When Boudreaux asked him to get an eye witness to back off from assault and battery charges against two of Boudreaux's henchmen, he tried to draw the line. He started to relive the situation in his mind.

"Paul, the evidence is overwhelming against your two guys, Jake and Donny. They beat a guy up so bad that he was put in the hospital for eight days. He damn near died. There were four separate witnesses that put your guys on the scene. One, actually captured the assault on his cell phone. There's nothing I can do."

"Alva, maybe the guy will drop the charges."

"Why would he?"

"I don't know, maybe you could talk to him." Boudreaux passed a couple of pictures to Bailey. In them, it was very clear that a woman was photographed doing lines of cocaine off a table. Alva knew that the pictures were of the sister of the victim. "Maybe you could talk to him. I'm sure he wants to keep his sister out of trouble."

Bitter bile rose in Alva's throat. He knew he would talk to the guy, and he knew the charges would be dropped. He did, and they were.

Alva turned his service pistol in his hand one more time. He always marveled at the balance of this pistol. He rarely fired the pistol, but through routine and rote, cleaned it once per week. He thought, it would be so easy put the barrel in my mouth and pull the trigger. It's obvious that Loretta is going to die. She probably has no more than two months left. She doesn't know me. She doesn't know anyone. It might be best for everyone.

With hammer backward, he put the barrel of the pistol into his mouth. He could taste the RemOil® on his tongue. The oil had a very distinctive sweet solvent taste to it. Not all that unpleasant. Even though this was a double action pistol, Bailey pulled the hammer back. With an ironic grin, he thought, I wouldn't want to miss. He took a deep breath. With an old fashion ring, his cell phone trilled out. He put the gun down and picked up the phone and answered, "Bailey, here."

"Hey Alva. This is Stan. I'm over in the warehouse district with Nikki and the Bunn boys. We definitely have a situation here and we need your help. How long will it take you to get dressed and drive over?

"Well, Stan, I'm already dressed and in the station, so I should be there in about five minutes. Have you called Jimmy?"

"Yes sir. He was over at the Jackson place and is on his way over."

"Okay, I'll see all of you over there."

***********************************

Jimmy was getting up preparing to leave the Jackson home when his cell phone rang. He answered. "This is Dent."

Dax was looking at Jimmy as he took the call. From the body language, the concentrated looks and occasional short responses, he knew something was up.

Jimmy finished the call, snapping the phone back to his belt. "That was Stanley Tate. He and three other officers just responded to a report of gunshots in the warehouse district. When they got there, Stan suspected a meth lab. He spotted what he thought were two dead guys on the floor. When they rushed in, they apparently triggered an explosion."

Beth took in a sharp breath, putting her hand to the side of her face. "Was anyone hurt?"

"It didn't sound like it. Scott Bunn had a slight glass cut, which they treated right there. Terry claims his ribs hurt where Stan landed on him. I don't know the story there yet, but bottom line is that everyone seems okay. I've got to head over."

Turning to leave, Jimmy looked back at Dax. "Are you up for a ride? You don't have to come, but I could use an extra set of eyes."

"Sure, let me get my jacket."

Driving over, the two discussed what all happened the past 24 hours. Dax was once again struck with how capable Jimmy was. In his old line of work, he had occasion to work with local authorities, and this level of expertise was unusual.

"You know, Jimmy, everyone has tiptoed around talking about Sheriff Bailey. What's the story there?"

Jimmy paused before answering. "I don't know if you've ever lived in a small town before. Typically, you know everybody and everybody knows you. I've known Alva Bailey all my life. I think he has held that Sheriff's position for something like 20 years. He must be doing something right, or he wouldn't keep getting elected."

"I hear you, but I'm interested in what your gut tells you. Is he clean, or is he connected at the hip with Boudreaux and what's going on with drugs?"

Jimmy pulled in next to the warehouse. "Well, since the Sheriff has already arrived, you'll have a chance to see him in action. As I recall, your first encounter wasn't so friendly. Maybe you can decide for yourself."

Author Notes Dax Connor - medically retired from Secret Service
Lael Jackson - 20 year old lady that Dax rescued
Jimmy Dent - Deputy
Sheriff Bailey - Sheriff with some questionable background
Stanley Tate - Deputy
Boudreaux - Local drug kingpin
Beth Jackson - Lael's mother
Alden Bishop - Boudreaux henchmen
Nikki James - Female sheriff deputy
Scott Bunn - deputy
Terry Bunn - deputy (no relation to Scott)

Chapter 12
Hawk

By bhogg

Background: Dax Connor rescued Lael Jackson from an attempted rape, subduing the two assailants, who were later found dead. Dax has been charged to stay in town until the investigation is complete. Lael has invited him to stay with her mom and herself. Dax inadvertently finds himself dropped right in the middle of a complicated drug conspiracy. Characters are listed in author notes.

From Previous Chapter: Jimmy and Dax are meeting for breakfast when a call comes that there has been an explosion at an old warehouse. Several deputies were on site, investigating gunshots and a possible double homicide. On the way to the site, Dax is looking for clarification.

"You know, Jimmy, everyone has tiptoed around talking about Sheriff Bailey. What's the story there?"

Jimmy paused before answering. "I don't know if you've ever lived in a small town before. Typically, you know everybody and everybody knows you. I've known Alva Bailey all my life. I think he has held that Sheriff's position for something like 20 years. He must be doing something right, or he wouldn't keep getting elected."

"I hear you, but I'm interested in what your gut tells you. Is he clean, or is he connected at the hip with Boudreaux and what's going on with drugs?"

Jimmy pulled in next to the warehouse. "Well, since the Sheriff has already arrived, you'll have a chance to see him in action. As I recall, your first encounter wasn't so friendly. Maybe you can decide for yourself."

***********************************************

Dax saw not only the Sheriff's car, but a medical van that indicated the coroner. Just pulling out was a fire engine. Looking over at Jimmy, he asked, "Do you think it is a good idea for me to be here? The last time I saw the Sheriff, he was ready to have me arrested for murder."

"Well, it probably doesn't matter much because there's the Sheriff. He's looking right at us and motioning us over. Let's go see what's up."

Jimmy and Dax approached Sheriff Alva Bailey. There was a female deputy with him that Dax didn't know. Dax prided himself on being able to read people. On her face he saw curiosity. Reading Bailey was a different matter. Dax saw nothing, either warm or cold.

Jimmy broke the ice. "Dax, this is Nikki Tate, and the Sheriff I think you know."

Dax shook hands with Nikki and turned to the Sheriff. He was surprised when Bailey stuck out his hand.

"Mr. Connor, I owe you an apology. I was a little hasty at our last meeting. If I had stopped long enough to take a couple of deep breaths, I would have realized that you had nothing to do with killing the two victims. In fact, it was a good thing you were around. Lael is one of the few young people who doesn't seem hell bent to leave town. There aren't many of them left."

"No apology needed, Sheriff. Please call me Dax. I didn't take offense at your initial reaction. You've got a tough job, and you got hit right between the eyes with an unusual set of circumstances."

Bailey briefly nodded. "I want you to know that I did make a few phone calls and got a little more background on you. Knowing what I know, we don't really have to wait for the gun residue tests. You're free to leave town any time you want. Right now though, you could probably help us out. My other three deputies ran over to the hospital for a quick check."

This got Jimmy's attention. "They're all okay, aren't they?"

Nikki chuckled. "Terry Bunn might be the worse off. He heaved Stan off the loading dock and took the full brunt of the fall. It was quite a sight. Scott had a facial cut that might require additional clean up and a butterfly bandage. Stan's ears were still ringing from the explosion. If any of them apply for medical leave, they're just goofing off."

Even Bailey smiled at this. "Okay, why don't we split forces? Jimmy, you help Doc with the two bodies. Dax, Nikki and I, will start a search grid inside the warehouse. The fire chief said the space was safe. With the back doors open and high roof, the explosion just rearranged stuff. He did leave a couple of dry chemical extinguishers if we need them."

Heading through the rear door, Nikki handed both Bailey and Dax a pair of surgical gloves, some small sealable bags and felt tip pens. "Dax, since you aren't on the payroll here, before you bag and tag something, please let either me or the Sheriff know. I would hate to have some evidence thrown out because of a chain of custody problem."

Dax nodded an affirmative as he thought, for a small town, these deputies seem pretty good. They began their search in a small 10 foot grid inside the door. At the far right end of the grid, Nikki reached down underneath a bench to retrieve a small shiny object. She held it up. "This is a 22 long, shell casing. We can't tell if it was used here, but we do know the previous victims were shot with a 22. It will be useless without prints. Rim fire 22 cartridges are the most widely available ammunition in the world."

Bailey commented. "That may be, Nikki, but the previous crime site had apparently been cleaned up and in a hurry. We didn't find any cartridges. If this was done by the same folks, they are either getting sloppy, using a revolver, or the weapon ejected the spent casing where they couldn't find it. Only pro's clean up shell casings from a crime scene."

In the next grid, Dax stopped. "Nikki, you might want to take a look at this."

Nikki came over and picked up the object. It was the top third of a small coffee can. Attached to the rim was a small piece of wire. Both were mangled, apparently by the explosion. "It looks like the top of a can and some wire. What am I missing?"

Dax looked over at the Sheriff. Bailey answered. "Nikki, did you say that the explosion was a double explosion, first, a smaller one, followed almost immediately by a larger one."

"Yes."

"What you see is part of the device responsible for the first explosion. Our guys in Iraq and Afghanistan are subjected to some pretty sophisticated improvised explosive devices, or i.e.d.'s. This one is a simple one that I remember from Vietnam days. You take an M67 grenade and remove the pin. If you put the grenade inside of a can, it keeps the arming lever from deploying. When Stan and Terry burst through the door, the trip wire pulled the can away from the grenade and caused the arming lever to come loose. The first explosion was the grenade. The second was the propane tanks that Stan spotted. They are lucky to be alive. Is that about what you see, Dax?"

"Yes it is, Sheriff. That is exactly what I see." Dax was thinking, maybe there's more to you than I thought.

************************************

The Coroner, Doc Bennett and Jimmy were doing their best to examine the victims. The blast and burn didn't help. From what they could tell, they were both shot in the head with a small caliber weapon. One was a male, approximately aged thirty to forty. It was hard to tell the age on the second victim, a female. It appeared as she was doing more than cooking meth. There were visible sores on her arms and her teeth were broken and blackened.

Doc Bennett commented, "This poor woman was a big time user. I've seen the sores before. They are created by obsessive skin picking brought on by hallucinations of bugs under the skin. The deterioration of her teeth indicate she's been using for quite some time. She could be twenty or she could be sixty. All we can do right now is bag them, and take them back to the morgue. Maybe we can find out some more there."

***********************************

The small motor court on the outskirts of town was like hundreds of others throughout the Southeast. Prior to the interstate days, these structures dotted the secondary roads. It was built of concrete block and painted a light green. The facade was decorated with white columns around the centrally located office. The name of the place was the White Column Motor Lodge. There were sixteen rooms. Three cars were in the lot and one belonged to the night manager.

Room eight was currently occupied by two Hispanic males. Enrique Estaban was a tall man, with a look that was more European than Mexican. His features were sharp and angular. Behind his back, his associates called him "The Hawk." His hair was well proportioned and styled. He sat at the one desk, taking apart and cleaning his pistol, a Colt, Woodsman, 22 caliber, rim fired, semi-automatic . This weapon, discontinued in 1977, is still considered the finest small caliber handgun ever made. Enrique caressed it like a living thing.

Jorge Morales was a man who looked more Indian than Mexican. He was short and squat, but very powerful. He was sitting on the only other available place in the room, one of the double beds. He knew to be careful with Enrique, but he was curious.

"Why did you shoot the two Anglo's at the meth lab? I could understand the two guys yesterday. They were dangerous, and had information that could be harmful to the cartel. The two today were no-bodies. The woman was pathetic. Not that it matters, I would just like to know, why kill them?"

Enrique placed the gun down on the table before responding with a total lack of emotion. "Because that's what I do."

Chapter 13
The Newspaper

By bhogg

Background: Dax Connor rescued Lael Jackson from an attempted rape, subduing the two assailants, who were later found dead. Dax has been charged to stay in town until the investigation is complete. Lael has invited him to stay with her mom and herself. Dax inadvertently finds himself dropped right in the middle of a complicated drug conspiracy. Characters are listed in author notes.

From Previous Chapter: Dax and Jimmy worked the crime scene with Sheriff Alva Bailey and Deputy Nikki Tate. Surprising to Dax, the reunion with the Sheriff was a good one.

****************************************

As he drove from the warehouse, Bailey thought to himself, that was about the best crime scene investigation I've ever been through. If things were a bit different, I wouldn't mind working with Dax Connor again. The part about hearing from him through my connections was a small lie, but maybe partially true.

In fact, that information came to him from his 4:30 a.m. conversation with Paul Boudreaux. His mind drifted back to that call.

"I recently left the Jackson place and confirmed that this was the guy I thought. Dax Connor is in fact, an ex agent of the Secret Service. Not only Secret Service, but a branch called Advanced Strategic Protective Services, normally called ASPS. Like the snake, these guys are bad news.

"I haven't heard of them."

"Well, Sheriff, that's not surprising. Most people haven't. As you know, a primary role of the Secret Service is to protect identified key people. This little branch is an extreme one. They protect by being proactive, neutralizing the threat before it happens. In simple terms, these guys are the tip of the spear. Dax was one of the sharpest."

"If he was so damn good, why did they kick him out?"

"It's a fascinating story. Jimmy already told you about Dax losing his family. They were killed by a Hezbollah splinter group. The leader of that group was a supposed double agent of value and also the son of a Jordanian Ambassador. Dax was asked to not pursue him. Old school Dax did what he was told, but the numb nuts Jordanian came after him. He killed the guy along with two of his buddies as they broke into his house."

The Sheriff looked puzzled. "Sounds like a righteous killing. Why would that get him in trouble?"

"Ah - it was the way he killed him. The guy was handcuffed at the time. Dax shot him in the upper leg and shattered his femur. He then used his heel to grind into the wound. This actually is a torture technique he might have learned from our Egyptian friends. It isn't as good as water boarding, but it has been successful in loosening tongues. The guy spilled his guts. Dax got enough information to thwart a major Al Qaida operation. They had planned an aerial dispersion of Anthrax inside of Grand Central Station. Thousands of people may have been killed. I'm not sure he was trying to kill the guy, but he bled out."

"It's confusing to me. It sounds like he should have been a hero."

"There's one small problem. The Government can't acknowledge that the information was gathered by torture. Dax is connected to the right people, to include a couple of senators and the Vice President. If he hadn't been, he might have met an unfortunate accident. Instead, he wound up getting an early promotion and then was given a full medical retirement."

The Sheriff was fully awake now. "Okay, so now we know who he is for sure. What is it you're recommending that we do?"

"It's your call, Sheriff, but I would do everything possible to make it easy for him to leave. You don't need to wait for the powder residue tests to come back. Dax didn't kill my two guys. I've got enough to worry about to find out who did. Having him around could be a major distraction."

"Look, Boudreaux, I've got to hang up. I hear my police scanner going crazy. We'll discuss this again."

************************************************************

Beth and Lael pulled up to the reserved parking space at the newspaper office. The building wasn't terribly far from the explosion site at the warehouse. It was an older building, built in the early twentieth century. It was red brick that over time had faded to a washed umber look. An aged, but proud sign announced, The Hurstville Post. In smaller letters, Founded 1916. The newspaper was founded by Beth's grandfather and great uncle. Later her father and uncle ran it. Now, she and Lael, were publisher, editor and part time sales people. They hired a gifted, recent Journalism major from the University of Georgia, as copy editor and page designer. Cindy had been a God send. They worked with a couple of commission based photographers, with the rest of the staff being lift and tote types..

As Beth walked to the front door, she was greeted by the large picture of her grandfather and great uncle in the early days of the paper. As she had all her life, she stopped and breathed in the essence of the paper. With current technology, she didn't even have to work here anymore. Everything she did could be accomplished from her home office. It wouldn't be the same though. To her, the company was a living, breathing, entity. It was a part of her life.

The two walked in and settled into their small, shared office. "So, Lael, what's on your plate today?"

"I needed to put on my sales manager hat, but don't think I'll have time. We need to hit the ground running. The events from yesterday are still hot and I need to get an update on the warehouse explosion. Are you going to write the editorial for this weekend?"

"No. There really isn't time for that either. The paper is going to have pretty big news already. A local getting abducted, a miraculous escape and the death of two drug dealers, should be pretty riveting. It's going to seem strange writing about that local who just happens to be you. Cindy called me and said she already has the story roughed out. All I have to do is edit and update. It can run tonight. I wouldn't be surprised if it gets picked up in Atlanta."

The two were interrupted by Cindy, the copy editor. "It's almost 8:00. Are you two only working a half day today? While you were schmoozing, I was also getting the story about the warehouse explosion. Did you guys know that two more people were killed?"

Lael, looked up from her coffee. "Yeah, Jimmy and our house guest, Dax left for there after breakfast. We heard about two possible homicides, but I guess you're confirming."

"I am. It looks like there were two people in the warehouse when it blew up and most likely, there was a meth lab in operation. Nikki, gave me some pretty good background, but told me she would break my nose if I let her name get out. I guess I scooped you Lael. I know you've got a direct line to Jimmy."

Lael stuck her tongue out as she asked, "Do we have enough of a story to make this afternoon's edition."

"I think so. We'll just write up and run as information from an unconfirmed source. Just think. I could have taken a job in Atlanta, but came home instead. Last week, I was reporting about Mrs. Demont's tea party, and this week, two double homicides. By the way, I am so glad that you're okay."

"Thanks, Cindy, we all better get to it."

*****************************************************

After the Sheriff left the crime scene, Dax, Jimmy and Nikki were sitting outside the warehouse comparing notes. Someone had brought some coffee and the universal, law enforcement staple, donuts.

Nikki brushed powdered sugar off her nose as she commented, "That was sure a lot of work with not a whole lot to show for it."

Dax countered. "I beg to disagree. I've been to plenty of crime scenes that didn't have nearly this much."

A puzzled Jimmy asked, "What do you mean Dax?"

"Nikki found an empty shell casing. Most likely, it came from the gun that was used for the homicide. Since it was ejected, that rules out a revolver. We now know the murder weapon was a semi-automatic. The gunpowder dispersion yesterday would indicate the same. There are tell-tale nicks on the shell casing that can be matched to the gun, if it is ever found. We also have four bullets from four bodies. There is just too much similarity between the two shootings to suspect two different killers."

An impressed Nikki commented, "I guess that is quite a lot."

Dax smiled. "Don't sell yourself short. You also found the two sets of footprints in the dust under the window. It was quite obvious that they came from two different people. The photographer put a scale beside each print. One was an approximate size 11, the other an approximate 7 ½. There are charts that will equate to size. While there is no certainty, a size 11 indicates an individual 6 feet or taller. A 7 ½ would suggest a person five and a half feet The smaller footprint showed no pattern. The larger one had a definite pattern. The Georgia Bureau of Investigation can run that pattern against the Soulmate® data-base and give you the manufacturer."

"The actual explosive itself, would suggest to me that the person who set this up has some military background. Bailey knew the device from Viet Nam days. Most military, world wide, would know of a device suppressing the arming lever of a fragmentation grenade. It's sometimes even called, the poor mans booby trap."

"So, in short, you should be looking for two suspects. One will be approximately six feet tall, the other around five and half feet. One or both might have military background. There is at least one weapon associated with the murders, a 22 caliber, semi automatic pistol. By the way, there is a possibility that the killers are from Mexico."

Jimmy asked incredulously, "How could you get Mexico out of anything we've seen?"

"The bottom of the shell casing was imprinted with a small eagle. I think you will find that this shell came from the Aguila Manufacturing company. It looks to me like it came from a 40 grain, Aguila, subsonic round."

Chapter 14
Clues

By bhogg

Background: Dax Connor rescued Lael Jackson from an attempted rape, subduing the two assailants, who were later found dead. Dax has been charged to stay in town until the investigation is complete. Lael has invited him to stay with her mom and herself. Dax inadvertently finds himself dropped right in the middle of a complicated drug conspiracy. Characters are listed in author notes.

From previous chapter: Dax, Jimmy, Nikki and Sheriff Bailey worked the crime scene, finding several things to follow up on. Beth and Lael go in to the newspaper office to start the write up for the previous day's mayhem and find out about the current situation.

***************************************************************************

Jorge Morales was used to violence. The nature of the times for drug trafficking gangs in Mexico was how one gang could outdo another in their level of depravity. He'd seen bad things and been around bad people. None were as bad as his current company, Enrique Estaban. In the last two days, Estaban had murdered four people in cold blood. When Estaban suggested he go out and buy some breakfast, he was glad to get out of the room.

Returning back to the motel with biscuits and coffee, he knocked on the door. "Enrique, open up, it's me."

"It's open. Come in."

When he walked into the room, Enrique was waiting for him. A gun was leveled toward him and the doorway. Only when he closed the door, did the gun go down. With an inward sigh of relief, he put the food down and sat in the single chair. It would not have surprised him if the bastard pulled the trigger.

Taking a bite of the biscuit, Enrique asked, "Are you sure you looked everywhere for that spent cartridge?"

"Enrique, you've asked me twenty times already. I told you I looked everywhere. Besides, we heard the explosion. Most likely that warehouse burned to the ground. What's the big deal, anyhow?"

With a malevolent glare, Enrique responded, "You dumb shit, I loaded those rounds myself. My finger print could be on that cartridge."

Jorge leaped up so fast, he knocked the chair down. He closed the distance between himself and Enrique. During that movement, his hand came forward with the distinct clicking sound of a flick knife. Stopping the knife just millimeters from Enrique's right eye, he bellowed, "Go ahead, killer man, call me a dumb shit again."

"Well, well, the little lion roars. I'm glad to see that. Just know that the next time you make a move toward me, you will be dead."

Jorge looked down. The pistol in Enrique's right hand was pressed against his abdomen.

"Yes, little lion, you may blind me, but it will be done with your last breath."

Only when Enrique lowered the gun, did Jorge back away, folding the knife back into his pocket.

"You are right, Jorge. The round is probably not a problem. I just pride myself on perfection. It bothers me it was left behind. Before the two died, we at least found out what we needed to know."

Relaxing only slightly, Jorge asked, "And what is it we learned that cost those two their lives?"

"What we found is that Boudreaux was not buying meth from them. He is buying marijuana from us, but apparently doesn't push meth, cocaine, crack or heroin. As you know, our bosses want to expand in this area. Marijuana is fine, but that's not where the real money is."

Jorge nodded. "Okay, where does that leave us with Boudreaux?"

"Do you remember the line from the God Father, where Vito says, let's make him an offer he can't refuse?"

"Yes, it was one of the great lines in all of cinema."

"Well, Jorge, that's what we are going to do with Boudreaux."

****************************************************

As Beth, Lael and the copy editor, Cindy were splitting up duties, the receptionist brought in two thick folders. "Beth, I copied all the material that you brought in this morning. Here is the original and this is a complete copy."

Beth took the copies. "Would you please take the original over to the Sheriff's office. If Jimmy is there, please hand them to him.

Cindy, I don't think that you heard about this. Paul Boudreaux, broke into the house last night and left this material. It is an expose about the Mexican drug cartels. According to Boudreaux, they are attempting to move in to this area and run the drug trade."

A perplexed Cindy asked, "Doesn't that seem a bit self serving? It's pretty common knowledge on the street that Boudreaux is right in the middle of the drug traffic between Macon and Atlanta."

"It gets even dicier," Beth replied. "It seemed important for Boudreaux to let us know that he did not have anything to do with Lael's abduction. Those two guys, Donny and Jake, worked for him, but he said that all they were supposed to do was hand that folder to Lael. If it hadn't been for Dax, they would have done a lot more than that."

Lael shuddered. "There was no doubt that they were going to rape me. They knew I recognized them, so the fact that they didn't try to hide their faces, led me to believe that they were probably going to kill me."

Beth gave Lael a brief hug. "I'm going to change my mind. You and Cindy have plenty of story to run with. It might make more sense for me to wade through the copies about the cartels. It's possible that there is some material here that can be used, or at least shed light on what's going on. You two write up what you have and I'm going to work on the folder."

The two left. Beth sat at her desk and thumbed through the copies. She and Dax had glanced through the material earlier in the day. She didn't really see anything original. Rather than hard data, it almost seemed like Boudreaux had someone do an in-depth search of current material regarding the cartels. While not original, it was nonetheless, disturbing.

She knew that Mexico had always been a producer and transit route for illegal drugs. What she didn't know was the size of the endeavor, and how deeply it had permeated Mexican society. It was a forty billion dollar business. With that level of financing, the cartels were often better armed than the soldiers and federal police positioned to take them on.

There were several items of particular interest. First was the name of the so called cartel moving into the area, the Sinaloa cartel. Its base of operation was Nuevo Laredo. They were involved with all types of illicit drugs, but probably best known for distributing Columbian Cocaine. Another item of interest was how the Press in Nuevo Laredo handled stories regarding the cartels. The local newspaper was quite clear. Stories that angered cartels led to the death of several journalists. Their decision was to not cover anything, recognizing that the responsibility to report had to be balanced against the responsibility of the safety of employees. The third item of interest, a recent trend of the Sinaloa cartel to recruit U.S. based criminals to broaden their distribution.

Beth sat back, drank some coffee and thought, What have I gotten myself in to? Was the move against Lael a warning?

**************************************************

Dax and Jimmy accompanied Doc Bennett back to the morgue. There seemed to be little doubt of the cause of death, so both wanted to know if the bullets came from the same gun. Normal procedure would have been to do the external examination first, but Bennett had agreed to remove the two bullets first.

Dax had been present with autopsies before. It was never something he looked forward too. Conventional wisdom was to disassociate from the victim. He never found that natural or easy. The two bodies were on different tables. Both were badly burned. Dax heard the "clink" of metal falling into a catch basin. A minute later, he heard a second clink. They had the bullets.

Jimmy brought the two catch basins over to a forensic table that had a dual image microscope. First, he put the bullets in an alcohol bath. He then scoped the two bullets side by side. "No surprise. These two bullets both came from the same gun. The striations have a left handed twist, which would suggest that the gun was a Colt firearm. They are 22 caliber. Since they came from the victim's brain cavity, they aren't too corrupted.

He then took one of the bullets off and one by one, placed a bullet from the previous days murder next to it. "There is no doubt that all the bullets came from the same gun. If we can ever find the gun, the four bullets and the one shell casing will most likely tie a single gun to all four murders. Hopefully, we can find the shooter at the same time."

Dax nodded and then said, "Jimmy, as long as you've got the microscope turned on, how about taking a peak at the shell casing."

Jimmy took the casing and applied a light dusting. "We don't even need the microscope. This baby has a print on it."

Author Notes List of Characters:
Dax Connor - medically retired from Secret Service
Lael Jackson - 20 year old lady that Dax rescued
Jimmy Dent - Deputy
Sheriff Bailey - Sheriff with some questionable background
Stanley Tate - Deputy
Doc Bennett - County Coroner
Boudreaux - Local drug kingpin
Beth Jackson - Lael's mother
Alden Bishop - Boudreaux henchmen
Nikki James - Female sheriff deputy
Scott Bunn - deputy
Terry Bunn - deputy (no relation to Scott)
Enrique Estaban - Mexican Cartel member
Jorge Morales - Mexican Cartel member
Cindy Townsend - Newspaper page designer, Assistant Editor

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