The Freelancer – Chapter 31

Monday, September 29

“I told you it wasn’t just a one night thing.”

I knew it was a bad idea to offer to take a shift tailing Blackstone.  I had thought it would give me a chance to see how he operated firsthand.  Instead, he hadn’t left his apartment all day and I had to listen to Collin talk about Maureen nonstop for the last eight and a half hours.

“That’s good, but be careful.  We can’t afford the complication.”

“I know, I know, but it isn’t like gorgeous, sexy women toss me into their beds everyday.”

“That’s a shock.”  I loved to push his buttons.

“You can kiss my ass, man.”

“Take it easy, Collin.  I was just messing with you.”

It occurred to me I stopped referring to my partner by his last name.  I wasn’t sure when that shift happened.  Ever since my partner had stolen my wife, I preferred to keep things on a professional level.  Seeing I had nothing left he could steal from me, I let it go.  Besides, the little prick was starting to grow on me, though I would not hesitate to have him removed from the case if he screwed up again.

Changing the subject, Collin said, “We should probably head back.”

“It’s only three-thirty,” I retorted.

“Traffic can be a nightmare around here.”

“Again, it’s only three-thirty.”

“Rush hour starts before four.  Anyway, I’m tired of sitting in a car with you.”

I shook my head.  “We can’t just leave.  What if he makes a move and no one’s here to tail him?”

“Foster and Rodriguez got here about thirty minutes ago.”

“They did?”

I was a little shocked.  I prided myself in being able to make a Bureau man a mile away, but I hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary.

“Yeah.  That bum over there is Foster and Rodriguez is the telephone company worker four cars ahead of us who’s ‘pretending’ to be asleep.  If Blackstone checks his mail, we’ll know.”

Collin hadn’t been lying about the traffic.  We were only ten miles from where I lived when traffic stopped moving.  I was grateful I didn’t have to commute to and from FBI Headquarters every day in this mess.

“Is there any news out of Houston?” I asked, hoping to make the time go by.

“Nothing left of the building.  We have agents questioning all of Blackstone’s former co-workers about him, but we haven’t gotten anything useful from them yet.  They all seem to think he was an exceptional worker, a little on the quiet side, but still a nice enough guy.”

That was what they all said.  A man could be butchering kittens in his dining room and his coworkers would all say what a nice, quiet guy he was.  “Have we been able to get surveillance footage yet from the company?”

“The board of directors is hesitant to give it to us before they’ve had a chance to review it, but we’ve been assured we’ll have it tomorrow morning.”

“Do they have any theories about what might have caused their building to explode?”

“Cocaine residue was found in Alex’s car.  They believe he got high and tried to work.”

“His sister was into drugs pretty heavily, wasn’t she Collin?”

“Yep.  That was how we got to him.  That stuff has probably been in his car for months and he was clueless about it.”

“Have our guys developed a theory yet?”

“I asked this morning, but they don’t want to venture a guess until they’ve seen the surveillance footage.  What’s your theory, Caldwell?”

“I think it was Blackstone.  I can feel it in my gut that I’m right.  I’ve come face to face with this guy and…”

“Whoa,” Collin interrupted.  “When did that happen?”

“Saturday, while I was with Jenna.  I think Alex was acting strange and Blackstone got suspicious.  He probably killed him and used the explosion to cover his tracks.”

“We have no proof of that.  Too bad we can’t bring down a potential terrorist because of your gut.”

“I’ve seen it in his eyes.  I don’t need proof, but I’ll have more than enough on him by the time this is over.  You can mark my words.”

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