A brown haired Latina stood there looking expectant. Teague gave her a kiss, then kissed his son’s head. “My wife and son, whose name I can remember. Tobias Rambo McTeague. Vivica, my beautiful spouse, this is Deirdre. Her boys Aiden, Burl and Corin and their friend, Eoin.”
“Lovely to meet you. Jas, you’ll need to switch out the car seat.”
“I’m on it,” he said, trotting outside.
“Tell me what’s going on,” Deirdre said. “I love visitors, but I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
“Vanessa is coming up the driveway,” Aaron said after looking at his phone. “And she will explain.” He opened the door for his boss. She was carrying a box of croissants and donuts.
“Hi. Sorry for the landslide intrusion. They beat me here, as usual. They’re fast, or I’m slow. I assume you’ve been introduced? Good. Okay.” She set down the box. “Teague’s family has been around since God created the Earth. He’s kin to the best lawyers and judges in the state. They may not be rich….”
“Some of them are,” Teague interjected.
“Well, yes, but mostly they’re just folks. But very powerful, and connected, folks. We set the wheels in motion. The people responsible for this racket are being subsequently hunted down and arrested. Armed with Fonda and Inez’ reports, along with Eoin’s, and the picture evidence we got from Bullock’s computer, we’ve got enough to indict a large number of people today.”
“And you’re not there?” Teague said. “What’s wrong with you. This is a career maker!”
“Some things are more important than my career. Family.”
The boys were allowed to stay home. Deirdre didn’t want them in school where she couldn’t keep a watchful eye over them. They all sat down to eat, talking and getting to know one another. Aaron, Jasper and Vanessa all got a text at the same time. Go Time, from Scott.
Aaron had his computer open. It beeped and the screen filled with a split screen of six cameras. Each was obviously on a person, because they shook slightly as the person moved. There was scattered chatter, as the person with the camera, and others, approached a beautiful home. Someone knocked and rang the bell.
“Daytona PD,” the camera wearer said. He rang and knocked again.
A flustered, fat man opened the door in his silky black bathrobe.
“Richard Bigby, you’re under arrest for pandering, statutory rape….” The list went on.
Bigby looked stunned. Dressed only in his black robe, briefs and socks, he was taken to the car.
“One down,” Vanessa said with glee.
The other screens showed similar images of other people, men and women, being arrested and led to waiting cars. At one home, someone ran out the back, trying to pull up his pants. The camera wearer chased him down. The young man stopped, surrendering.
“I know him,” Aiden said. “He’s on golf team with me. Be gentle with that one. Can you tell them? He’s a good kid.”
Vanessa got on her phone and called. The man wearing the camera answered. The boy was cuffed, looking cowed and ready to cry.
“Yeah, Nessa.” It was Scott’s voice.
“Aiden says that boy is on golf team with him. Name?” She asked Aiden.
“Felix Newcomb. He’s a good kid, sixteen, tends to slice. He’s another foster kid.”
She relayed the information to Scott.
“Hey, kid. Is your name Felix?”
“You here under duress?”
“I don’t know what that means!” the boy sobbed. “I just wanna go home!”
“Duress means you were forced to be here. Did someone force you to be here?”
“Can I talk to him?” Aiden asked Vanessa.
“Sure. Scott, I’m putting Aiden on. Give the phone to the kid.”
Scott put the phone up the Felix’s ear.
“Lix, it’s Aiden. Listen, that cop is a good guy. He’s just trying to get the truth. Tell him everything you know, and he’ll take care for you. I’ll come see you as soon as they let me, okay?”
“Aiden? What’s going on, man?”
“Lieutenant Scott will explain. But it’s gonna be okay, dude. Just cooperate.”
“Positive. When have I ever lied to you?”
“You lied about the ball buffer,” Felix said, taking a ragged breath.
“That’s hazing. Dumb ass joke. But when it mattered?”
“Never. You always tell the truth.”
“I do. Especially now.”
“Okay. Okay. Thanks, Aiden.”
“I got your back, kid.”
© 2018 Dellani Oakes
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