Chapter Sixty: I’m Not So Sure Anymore

The next couple of days drags on as we wait for information about the gun. All is quiet at the house, but that’s to be expected since the police are back watching it. Brock and I are trying to get back some semblance of a normal life, but every noise startles me. This can’t continue or I’m going to have a nervous breakdown.

It’s Saturday, the last day of March, and I’m at the grocery store. I’m also headed to the garden nursery to pick up some spring plants. It’s finally Spring, and I need some color in my life. After paying for the groceries, I head out to a sunny and warmish day. It feels about 60, but I’ll take it. After loading the groceries and loving that I got the shopping done in the morning so few people are around, I hear the familiar buzzing of my phone, and my heart leaps. I fumble in my pocket and pick it up.

It's Gray.

“Do you have some news?” I say, not mincing my words.

“Yes, and this is going to shock you. Also, the shooter did wear gloves when he shot Dimitri, but we were able to match the residue from the bullet to the gun and then put that in our gun registration database.”

I wait with bated breath. “And …”

“The gun belongs to your neighbor three houses to the west of you, Jack Montgomery.”

I mentally calculate it and then gasp. “Him?” I’m very shocked, but then I recall when Troy was found, and he had that smirk on his face and the way he looked at me …

“Trice, you there?” I snap back to the present, unaware Gray has been talking.

“Sorry, yes. I was just thinking back to the day Troy was found. Jack wasn’t upset. In fact, he looked satisfied. I just chalked it up to the fact that he didn’t like him and left it at that, but this doesn’t make a lot of sense, unless … “ And then, as if the world stopped, the pieces start falling into place. “He knew about the drugs.”

“Now, we don’t know that. He could have been walking by and saw the shooter on your property or was out on his deck and saw movement in your backyard. Don’t jump to conclusions just yet.”

“I highly doubt Jack walks anywhere. He’s a truck driver and has been gone three-fourths of the year. When he’s not gone, he’s probably sleeping. Put it this way. I have never seen Jack on a walk in the entire time I’ve lived here, and we both have been here for thirty years.”

“Yeah, well, we still don’t want to assume anything until we’ve had a chance to interview him after we take him in. The problem is he’s on a delivery for the next week and won’t be back until then.”

“So, we have to wait. I guess at least we know who shot Dimitri and that for the time being, we’re safe, right?” I chew on a nail and force myself to stop the nasty habit I’ve had for decades.

“Not necessarily. Your theory that he knew about the drugs could be right, but we have no solid evidence. Again, he could have seen something, and since this street is now infamous for crime, he took it upon himself to get rid of a problem. You do know he was in the military, right? He was in the National Guard.”

I didn’t know that, but I’m not entirely surprised.

“Yes, so he knows how to handle himself and shoot a gun. Now, if we go with your theory – and it’s just a theory,” he says, emphasizing the word, “Then Jack had to have known that someone was after them –“

“Melanie,” I say, cutting him off. “But how does she know Jack?”

“It could be that Jack found out about the affair, either from Troy himself or by accident and was blackmailing Troy when he learned about the drugs. Hell, maybe the two were in on it together and had some sort of deal. Maybe Jack was … “ he stops mid-sentence, and I sense he’s had an epiphany.

“Was what, Gray?”

“Well, and this sounds insane, but could Jack and Troy have been running a drug operation? It would be easy enough since Jack is a truck driver. They could have hidden the drugs in empty boxes in a large semi. Maybe at some point, it was starting to become too risky or something and so they had to find someplace to hide the drugs in case we came snooping. Or, maybe in one of the states he was delivering, he started getting suspicious about something, and they had to stop. The government has been cracking down hard on fentanyl.” I had to admit it was a strong possibility. But how did Melanie know about all of this unless Troy told her. When Grant killed him, suddenly, the drugs were fair game. I tell Gray about my theory.

“If Melanie knows and sent someone, Dimitri, to get the drugs and Jack somehow found out, he was ready to take care of the problem,” I say signaling air quotes.

"That makes sense. But I’m still hung up on how Jack knows Melanie sent someone when she did and he just happened to be there to catch him. That part isn’t adding up.”

He’s right. We have to find out what Jack knows, but that won’t be for another week. In the meantime, if Melanie finds out Dimitri isn’t coming back with the drugs, will she send someone else? The thought sends shivers through me.

Gray promises to call me as soon as they can arrest Jack, and I head to the nursery with too many questions filling my mind.

***

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I return home after picking out some Spring plants to fill my pots. When we get more freezes, which can happen until Mother’s Day or beyond, it’s easy to move them indoors. But just having some color to adorn our porch and deck gives me hope for a Spring rebirth and an end to one of the hardest and most dangerous years of my life.

I grab the groceries from the car and head inside. Brock is in the kitchen making pancakes, and the smell of bacon wafts through the air. I realize I never ate before leaving, just grabbed coffee, and the food looks good.

“Hungry?” Brock says, flipping a pancake. He’s wearing his light blue apron one of the grandkids got him for his birthday one year. The words “World’s Greatest Barbeque King” splashed across the front, with a crown on top, matches his baby blue eyes. I grin.

“Yes! As soon as I bring in the rest of the groceries and plants, I have some news from Gray, and you’re never going to believe it.”

“Really?” Here, let me help you.” He tosses the remaining pancakes onto a plate with the bacon on another one and covers them with a plastic plate.

Once everything has been brought in and we’re sitting down to eat, Brock says, “Okay, spill it.”

I tell him everything, and he stares at me as if I’m telling him a mesmerizing story.

“You’re right, I can’t believe it. I mean, I knew or thought I knew that Jack hated Troy. But maybe that was all a façade. If Jack hadn’t shot Dimitri, he may have never been found out. For someone in the military, he should have known they would match his gun with the bullet found and trace it back to him.”

“Yes, but he could use the defense tactic too. He was walking by, saw or heard some commotion and went to investigate. He saw Dimitri in our backyard and there was a struggle and he shot him. Clear self-defense.”

Brock nods. “Yes, and I would have argued just that as a defense lawyer. However, if your theory rings true and he murdered Dimitri so he could get the drugs himself, then the self-defense plea won’t work. Gray has to question Melanie. She obviously knows about the drugs.”

“Well, maybe, but maybe not. Here’s another theory. What if Dimitri was hired by Jack to get the drugs and he wanted some of the cut, which makes sense, or he would go to the police. So, Jack agrees; however, when Dimitri finds the drugs, he changes his mind or he demands more. Jack goes to confront him and they fight. The gun goes off and Jack kills him. Not wanting to be caught, of course, Jack takes off and leaves Dimitri there.”

“Could be. The one thing I’m still hung up on, though, is how this all happened under the cop’s nose. Weren’t they watching the house? How could not one but two people jump our fence with no one seeing or hearing anything?”

“Yeah … it just seems odd, right?” I cock my head and look pensive, trying to piece everything together. “I mean, unless a cop is in on it, which seems silly.”

“I wouldn’t completely dismiss it, though. There are dirty cops.”

“Yeah, but in Grantsville?”

“Still, who was on patrol that night?”

“Well, Officer Lopez and Holder. She left with Herc and then came back because she forgot his food. By then, the murder already happened.”

“So, what if she was in on it with Holder?”

“Lopez? No, she wouldn’t do this. I trust her. But, Holder could have. He’s new to the force. Maybe he found out or knew Troy or Jack and he was able to get access since he was watching the house.”

Brock snaps his fingers; his eyes grow wide. “Oh my God, Trice. He was patrolling the house when we were gone to New York. Officer Lopez took a few shifts, but while she had Herc, he was here the whole time. Maybe he found out, and Jack told him he would get a cut if he kept quiet. Holder is young, might have debts, who knows? Melanie knew we would be gone and contacted Jack.”

"Wait, so you’re saying they all were in on it? I find that hard to believe, Brock. I still don’t get how Melanie knew, unless Troy told her and when he died, well, we hashed that out already. So, Melanie, Jack, Dimitri, and Holder knew about the drugs. Do you think Jeff knew as well?”

Brock looks to be pondering my question. “I don’t think he did. I don’t think he poisoned us. Melanie knew we were leaving to go back home, and she couldn’t have that since she still didn’t get the drugs, so she laces our coffee with arsenic, even though I don’t know how she acquired the same poison Grant used to kill Troy.

“But, when we escaped and came back home and found the drugs ourselves, Holder was there. Remember, he came when Gray came. He contacted Melanie and Jack. She hires Dimitri to get the drugs, but when the deal goes south, Jack kills him.”

An alarming thought enters my mind. “Holder knows Jack killed him and warned Jack to stay away. What if Holder gets the drugs himself? He’s patrolling the house tonight. How easy would it be for him to grab a buddy or give a kid a hundred bucks to help him get the canisters and toss them into the back of the truck? No one would be wiser because he’s a cop.”

Brock rubs his forehead and then buries his head into the table. I hate that we have to deal with several murders now, and we still have no idea who murdered Goldie.

He abruptly flips his head up. “This means Holder has known about this since day one. How convenient that he happened to be transferred to Grantsville shortly after Troy’s body was found.” As we are talking, I start to feel the hairs on the back of my neck flicker, and a cold feeling washes over me as I notice, out of the corner of my eye, a tiny camera hidden in my vase of artificial flowers. I try not to react.

I must get Brock out of the house.

“Hey, enough talking about this, or it will drive us both crazy. Come help me get these plants outside,” I say to a very confused Brock.

‘Wait, now?”

“Yeah, I need to clear my head and need some help.” I turn the vase around and pretend to be fiddling with the flowers. When the camera is no longer in sight, I grab Brock’s arm and point to the vase and mouth CAMERA. Brock places his palm over his mouth as he looks at the vase and then back at me.

“You’re right. We both need some sun and clear air.”

We get up and head to the car but don’t say anything until we’re out back. I pull him away from those cameras as well. Who knows if Holder has hacked into our home security system.

“I noticed a tiny camera in the vase,” I whisper. “Damn it, we’ve been recorded this whole time.”

“That son of a bitch. Trice, we have to call Gray, now,” he whispers back.

“Hold on. If he did hack into our system and he’s watching us, he will know we’re contacting him. Let’s get the plants in the pots, boring stuff, and then I will mention that I need a few more plants and leave. Instead, I will head for the police station while you go back inside and put away the breakfast stuff and the rest of the groceries.”

“Okay, that would work. But be careful and watch for anyone behind you.”

“I will. This ain’t my first rodeo, so to speak,” I say and chuckle a little. At these times, you either laugh or cry and I’ve done enough crying to last a lifetime.

We finish potting the plants, and I take a few pics and video as I always do for YouTube and Instagram. 30 minutes later, I back out of the driveway and head for the police station. Every minute or so, I glance out my rearview and side mirrors and see that no one is tailing me.

I pull into the police station. I had texted Gray before I left, out of earshot of the backyard cameras. He wasn’t at the station but said he would meet me in 15 minutes, which gave me enough time to record my YouTube segment.

I park and look around to see if I’ve been followed or if anything suspicious stands out. Finding nothing, I hurry into the police station.

What greets me makes my blood boil.