Ghosts From the Past Ch. 3

Red and blue lights flashing in the fog only allowed Caz to see the chaotic shifting of silhouettes as they swarmed toward the house he lived in. Even being on the second story, he couldn’t see enough to gauge how many of the trespassers had come. All the lights in the house were on, everyone was running back and forth shouting. He heard footsteps coming toward his door and turned in time to see it swing inward. It was Papa, he was out of breath as if he had been running. There was a rifle slung on his shoulder and a long-bladed knife tucked into his belt.

“Keep away from the windows Caz,” Papa said gently, pulling him to the center of the room. “I have a very important job for you tonight. I need you to protect your brothers and sisters,” Papa told him, kneeling onto the hard wood floor to look him in the eye. “The enemy is at our gates. I know you want to be down there defending our home alongside us, but this is what the family needs of you tonight.” Papa handed Caz the knife from his own belt and pulled him close. “Do not let them be taken,” Papa gripped both of Caz’s shoulders hard.

“I will not fail you Papa,” Caz said looking hard into his Papa’s eyes. His face looked worried, which was not an emotion he had ever seen there.

“I know my son,” Papa squeezed his shoulders and then stood. A small smile touched his lips, the familiar fervent light shining once again behind his eyes.

Mama entered the room, his 5 siblings following her, still in their night clothes. She was calm as she herded them into the closet. She positioned them behind the shirts hanging from the closet rod and closed the doors. With the nine of them it was cramped, but they all fit. She laid her hand and his shoulder and kissed the top of his head.

“Sei mutig, mein Sohn,” Be brave, my son Mama whispered into his ear. With that, Papa and Mama left the children, heading back out toward the sound of men and women rushing to defend against the intruders.

The closet door opened slightly. Giselle’s golden hair and one icy-blue eye pressed against the crack in the door. Caz walked over to the closet and the door and it opened all the way, Giselle stepping out.

“I want to help,” Giselle told Caz, closing the door behind her. At 9 years old Giselle was only a year younger than Caz, but still a head shorter. She had come to the family when she was 4 years old, Caz remembered. She had always been stubborn, but she had always only wanted to please Papa and help the family.

“No,” Caz said calmly. “Papa told me to keep ALL of you safe. And I am going to do just that. I need you in there to keep the younger children calm.” Caz went to pull the closet door back open when the house went dark.

“What happened!” Giselle asked, a slight tremble in her voice. Caz went to the wall by the window and flattened his back to it. He turned just enough to peek down and see what was going on.

“It looks like someone cut the main power to the property, all of the lights outside are gone,” Caz told Giselle. Now, without the lights, the room was a chaos of red and blue splashes.

“ATTENTION ALL RESIDENTS. THIS IS THE POLICE. COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR AND UNARMED. WE HAVE THE AREA SURROUNDED.” A loud voice was giving commands over a speaker outside. Caz now realized he could hear dogs barking also, he didn’t know if they were the family’s or if the police had brought their own.

“TOD DEN EINDRINGLINGEN! SCHÜTZEN SIE DIE FAMILIE!” DEATH TO THE TRESPASSERS! PROTECT THE FAMILY! Caz heard someone shout. The night exploded into flashes of light and the sound of gun fire. Caz dove away from the window, tackling Giselle to the ground, her bravery from before was gone. She now lay on the floor screaming and gripping onto Caz. He realized he was holding her just as tight and pressing his eyes closed as hard as he could. Angry at himself, he pushed himself up and dragged Giselle back to the closet. He opened the door and shoved her inside.

“Keep the little ones quiet,” Caz told Giselle. She had stopped screaming but tears ran down her face and she was choking back sobs. He shut the door and crossed the room. He picked up the knife he dropped when he dove from the window and took his position, crouching close to the wall by the rooms entrance. He stood at a lunging distance away from the door, his knife firmly in his hand. The gun fire hadn’t stopped, but it was more sporadic now. There seemed to be spurts lasting a minute or two followed by a long silence.

Caz alternated stretching his legs to avoid them cramping while he waited. The sounds seemed to get closer with each new burst. The fighting was close enough he could hear the screams of the wounded. Another long silence.

There was a loud BOOM followed by a crash downstairs. Caz felt as if each shot sent a vibration through his feet and up his legs. His heart thudded against his chest, his breath came short and quick. The rush of blood in his ears began to drown out even the fighting downstairs. His vision pulsed and began to narrow. If you feel yourself in the grip of terror, take what control you can. Focus your breathing, check your surroundings, steel your mind for the task at hand. Papa’s words filled his head. Breathing was the first lesson on self-control.

Caz began to focus his breathes. In, 2, 3, 4. Hold, 2, 3, 4. Out, 2, 3, 4. Hold, 2, 3, 4. Each day began and ended with this exercise. With each cycle of breath, his heartrate slowed and the thudding against his chest weakened. He scanned from his bed to the window, to the closet, then back to the door. He looked at the family mark on his left forearm, a tattoo all members received at 8 years old. One last breath cycle, then he listened.

The fighting downstairs was over. Caz heard soft footsteps moving methodically through the house. Slowly up the stairs, a door swings open, quick steps then a muffled, “Clear.” He knew the house, he could picture these men moving down the upstairs hall. There were three more rooms between him and the threat.

Footsteps, the creak of a door, “Clear.” Footsteps, creak, “Clear.” Footsteps, creak, “Clear.” The footsteps stopped outside his door now. He could see pale light shine from underneath. The doorknob began to turn slowly, and the door swung open. The pale light was now a blinding ray. It was followed by indistinguishable figures entering the room. Caz lunged, silently. The man did not have time to even turn his rifle toward him. He brought his knife down hard, aiming for where he thought this shadow’s throat would be.

Before the knife bit flesh, the figure grabbed his wrist. Caz felt a fist hit his belly, driving the air from his lungs. The knife was shaken free from his hand as he fell to his knees. He watched it as it skittered across the floor and under his dresser in the corner of the room. Only the man’s grip kept Caz from sprawling on the ground himself.

“Shit, it’s just a kid!” Caz heard the man say. “I got another one in here!” The man turned and spoke out to the hallway.

Caz gasped for air and tried to pull free, he had to get back to the knife.

“It’s okay kid, we’re not going to hurt you. We’re here to help,” he pulled Caz to him.

Caz turned towards the man and sank his teeth into his shoulder. He knew he only bit cloth and body armor, but he would not give up.

“Damn!” The man exclaimed, pulling Caz back to arm’s length, “You’re determined, aren’t you?”

“Just the one so far. I haven’t checked the room for more,” the man said to another as they walked into the room, “I haven’t had the chance to yet. This one took most of our attention so far.”

“The rest of the house is secure Sarge.” The second man said “All we have left is the big barn out back. It looked like a lot were retreating back that way. With the way we had to fight into the houses I don’t know what to expect from that, but it sounds like they’re going to shrink containment to just around there now all the other buildings are done. If you want to take this one outside, me and Charlie will finish the room.”

“Thanks. Come on kid,” the Sargent, his name tag said DONOVAN, wrapped Caz in a bear hug and lifted him off the ground. Caz kicked and thrashed as much as he could. “Come on now, you’re making this way more difficult than it needs to be.” Sargent Donovan held tighter and hauled Caz downstairs and outside. He carried Caz all the way to an ambulance.

“This one’s quite the fighter.” Sargent Donovan told a medic.

“We don’t have time to fight with a kid. We’re trying to stabilize trauma patients with broken bones and gunshot wounds,” the medic said.

“If I put him down, he might just grab a gun and create more trauma patients for you,” Sargent Donovan said.

“Fine,” the medic said exasperated. Caz felt something jab into his thigh. After a few seconds his legs became heavy and he was having a difficult time trying to fight free.

“Did you really have to stick him?” Sargent Donovan asked.

“I told you, we don’t have time to fight with a kid. Lay him on the gurney, we’ll strap him down for now,” Caz heard the medic say.

Caz felt himself be lowered down onto a bed. He tried to pull his arms from the two men, but his body wasn’t responding how it should. He felt the straps as they were cinched down over his legs. More were put around wrists and were tightened. Caz tried to scream, but all he could manage was a low moan. Then the night swallowed him.

Caz woke in his bed, in his apartment. Another nightmare. This one, however, didn’t fade away like the others. Maybe because this was a memory which had resurfaced and not a true nightmare. He had not thought about that night, or his life back then in general, for years.

Janus jumped up onto the bed and walked over to his lap, rubbing his head against his chest.

“Hey Janus. You are having trouble sleeping tonight too?” Caz scratched the cat behind his ears. After a moment, Janus jumped back down to the floor and slipped out of the door which stood open a crack. He stepped out of bed and went to his closet, taking down the box of files on Jackson Montgomery.

Caz took the box out to his table and set it down next to Janus who was sitting and staring at him. He walked over to a cupboard by his fridge and pulled out a can of tuna. Janus meowed and jumped down from the table as Caz opened the can. With Janus mollified, Caz began taking out the various reports on Jackson.

Jackson seemed to have an underlying issue with rage. This led to dangerous activities such as school yard fights and drug use. The drug use led to more criminal activity and unpredictable behaviors. All of it seemed to paint a picture of somebody not getting the help they needed after the trauma of being indoctrinated into the Family. Even the few years Jackson was a member had these catastrophic consequences.

Caz had all the help and support he could have asked for in the years following, and he still had lasting emotional scars. He could remember the feeling of mistrust towards everyone after being taken from the farm. The isolation he felt being separated from the people he grew up around, the people he was told were the only ones who wouldn’t lie to him. The ones he was taught were the only people who were not out to take advantage of him. His ‘Family’.

Luckily he had people come into his life who were willing to step up and show him the truth. The example his father set largely shaped how Caz eventually began to think decent people should be. The love his mother showed him helped him heal from the emotional scars he hadn’t even known he had. He had not made it easy on them, but they never gave up on him. Without them, and many others who became part of his life, he could have easily ended up just like Jackson.

Caz was looking at the report from the FBI about Jackson’s kidnapping. His parents, Maria Gonzalez and Geoffrey Montgomery, might be able to shed more light on Jackson and what happened after they were reunited. He would need to speak to Dr. Ross again to see if next of kin notification was made.

Janus jumped back up onto the table and promptly began to clean himself.

“Done eating already? I guess I should get ready for the day too.” Caz gathered the files and stored them back into the box which he put next to the front door. His phone alarm began to go off telling him it was time to wake up and start his routine. Caz went back to the kitchen and started his pot of coffee.

Caz walked into the station carrying the box of files. As he made his way to his desk, Dan caught up to him.

“Missed ya last night man. Get this, Higgins had a little too much and decided it was a good idea to get on stage and try his hand at karaoke! Got it all on video. Just need to figure out how I’m going to blackmail him with it,” Dan laughed. “Make any headway on your case?”

“Not as much as I would have liked,” Caz answered. “I was going to see if the Coroner had next of kin information. I would like to speak with his parents.”

“Yeah, they might have more info on anyone he might have screwed over,” Dan said. “Anyway… if you have some time later, can you look over one of my reports. The Captain keeps sending them back with more corrections written in red pen then I had information in the report to begin with! I’ve never seen any of yours sent back, so I thought you might be able to help me out.”

“Of course! Bring it by my desk and I will take a look at it this morning. I assume that is why people call me an android.” Caz said.

“That among other things haha,” Dan laughed. “Personally, I’d take it as a compliment. If it bothers you though, I can put a stop to it.”

“Thank you but you do not have to do that. It does not bother me,” Caz said. “There is much worse to be called.”

“Got that right! You should hear what they call Mezzer behind his back. Anyway, thanks man. It would be a big help!” Dan said, slapping Caz’s shoulder and walking over to his own desk.

Caz set the box down on top of his desk. As he sat in his chair, his phone rang. “This is Detective Donovan,” he spoke into the receiver.

“Takes me back every time I hear you answer the phone like that haha. Your dad used to answer his phone the same way,” Heidi’s voice came from the other end. “You got a call from a young lady named Ashley before you got in this morning. I wrote down her number and have it here at my desk if you can stop by.”

“I will be right there. Thank you, Heidi.” Caz hung up the phone and stood to walk over to Heidi’s desk.

“Hey Caz, hold up a second!” Katie came jogging up to catch him before he could leave. “Are you going to the retirement party this weekend?” Katie asked. “Everyone’s pitching in to get Hank an expensive bottle of scotch and they nominated this lucky girl to collect. Not sure why we’re buying something since the admin already paid for a plaque and shadow box, but here we are.”

“Hank has been an influence on most of the officer’s careers, including the current administration,” Caz said. “I will be there,” he pulled his wallet out and handed Katie $50. “Make sure it is really expensive. He always has enjoyed glass of scotch at the end of the day,” Caz winked at her. Hank Bailey had been his father’s partner for most of their career and had known Caz since he was a child.

“Whoah, big spender!” Katie tucked the money into an envelope she was carrying. “Thanks! I’ll see you later. Hey Mezzer, don’t you dare think about sneaking off!” Katie shouted to another detective who was heading toward the door. She ran off toward him.

Caz turned back to go towards Heidi’s desk when his computer chimed to notify him of a new e-mail. It was from a member of the drug task force and it was about Jackson.

To: Donovan, Caz

From: Franks, Howard

Hey! I heard Jackson ended up as one of your cases. Since you’re in Homicide I’m going to assume he’s no longer with us. Can you meet up with me? I have some information and am hoping you can share some with me too. I’m free this afternoon if that works for you. Thanks and talk to you soon.

V/R

Detective H. Franks

Drug and Gang Task Force

555-1262

Caz called the number at the bottom of the email, it went to voicemail. “Detective Franks. This is Caz Donovan. I should be able to meet with you this afternoon. Please let me know when a good time would be for you. Thank you for reaching out to me.” Caz hung up the phone. Hopefully this would give him something new to go on.

Caz, finally, made his way to the records desk where Heidi was sitting.

“It’s rude to keep an old gal waiting, Caz.” Heidi said as he approached.

“Old? I would not believe you were a day over 40 Heidi!” Caz said with a wry smile.

Heidi, who hadn’t seen her 40’s in about 20 years, grinned at him. “Such a charmer, Caz. Just like your father was. Just remember, flattery won’t get you anything… it will get you everything haha!” Heidi reached into one of her drawers and pulled out a yellow sticky note with a bent corner.

Ashley Kennedy for Detective Donovan

Please call, regarding “Monty”

555-1637

“Poor girl sounded upset. Friend or family of the victim I’m assuming,” Heidi said as Caz read the note.

“Friend,” Caz said. “Thank you, Heidi. If you will excuse me, I should call her now.” Caz dialed the number on his cellphone as he walked back to his desk.

“Hello?” came Ashley’s voice.

“Hello Ashley, this is Detective Donovan from yesterday. Did you remember something?” Caz asked.

“Thanks for getting back to me. I don’t know how much help it will be, but I was thinking for a while last night. After you left, I remembered Monty had been acting a little weird when he left last night.”

“Weird in what way?” Caz asked

“Well, he seemed more nervous than normal. And, after I thought about it, he seemed a little spooked when I first walked in. He stayed for a bit and talked with me, which isn’t unusual, but when he left, he stood in the doorway for a little while looking out into the parking lot.”

“So, something ‘spooked’ him earlier in the night? Did he mention to you what that may have been?” Caz asked.

“Nope. Just the way he acted seemed a bit off. And I remembered there was an old, beat-up van pulling out of the parking lot as I was coming in. I thought that might have been part of it."

“A van? Could you describe it to me? Did you happen to see the license plate?” Caz held the phone against his ear with his shoulder now. He sat down at his desk, moving a piece of paper to the side and started writing in his notebook.

“Not really, sorry. I know it was a dark color, like black or gray. Crappy cars aren’t really out of place at the gas station, so I didn’t think anything of it until now.”

“That is ok, Ashley. Thank you for calling me. If there is anything else, you can call this number back directly.”

“I will, thanks. Oh, and by the way, the manager came in and was able to pull up the video you asked about. You should be able to go and pick it up today.”

“Thank you very much! I would like to see if the van or its occupants are on the video.” Caz hung up the phone and wrote down some notes about the conversation.

Caz looked over at the paper he had moved when he sat down. It was a typed case report. Thanks again bud! Was scrawled in pen at the bottom of the page. It was the report he had told Dan he would go over. Caz groaned inwardly as he scanned the paper. Fixing this was going to take some time. He stuck the report in his folder and stood up from his desk. This was going to be a long day, he thought to himself.

Caz arrived at the gas station. There were a few cars in the lot, none of them looked as if they should be driven on the road. He entered through the front door, there was a man and a woman in line to check out. The woman who was currently checking out gave him a weak smile before looking back at the clerk. She handed him a few crumpled bills and a handful of change for the half gallon of milk on the counter. As the woman with the milk passed, she offered a faint “Good morning,” and then walked out of the door.

The man in line had quickly looked down and away when he saw Caz. “Just a pack of smokes and $10 in scratchers,” Caz heard him say nervously as he approached the counter.

“Morning sir,” said the clerk, looking at Caz. “If you’re here to talk to Ralphie, he’s in the back office. You can just head back and knock on the door.” He was wearing a long sleeve, button down shirt tucked into khaki pants.

The man buying the cigarettes was doing his best not to make eye contact. He threw some money on the counter, snatched his cigarettes and lottery tickets, and hurried out of the store.

“You’ll have to excuse him sir. A lot of our customers don’t have the best relationship with the law,” the clerk smiled at Caz. “Anyway, the office is at the back. Just head down the candy bar aisle behind you there and it’s to the right of the beer coolers.”

“Thank you,” Caz walked down the aisle the clerk had indicated and saw a door off to the right. He knocked twice and waited outside the door.

“Go away Dennis. I’m busy!” A gruff voice called from the other side.

“This is Detective Donovan. I was told you would be able to show me the security footage from a couple of nights ago.” Caz said.

The door was opened by a squat man about a foot shorter than Caz. He was wearing a faded flat cap and a black leather jacket, which was just a little too big for him. “Oh, it’s you, come on in,” the squat man told Caz and stepped back into the room. There was a nearly empty bottle of whisky opened on the table next to an ashtray where a cigarette lay sending a whisp of smoke into the air. “Wasn’t sure you’d actually show, him being a junkie and all. Figured you’d’ve chocked it up to a tweaker on tweaker crime and swept it under the rug.” The man sat down in a swivel chair behind the desk. It groaned and tilted perilously far back as he did so.

“You are Ralphie I presume?” Caz asked, standing next to the desk as there were no other chairs.

“You presume correct,” Ralphie answered, putting extra emphasis on the word. “I already put the video onto a thumb drive for you,” he threw a wrinkled envelope on the desk to Caz.

“I assure you, I do not sweep cases under the rug,” Caz said, ignoring Ralphie’s passive-aggressive comment. “Did you happen to notice anything unusual while you were reviewing it?”

“Reviewing it?” Ralphie snickered. “I didn’t bother. All I woulda seen is Monty slackin’ off when he shoulda been doin’ work. That, and whatever the little street urchins stole that night, and I don’t have the motivation to do that kinda paperwork right now. Damn kids are always comin’ in at night when he’s workin’. Knew they could pull a fast one on him ‘cause he never paid any attention.” Ralphie had leaned back even further now, kicking his boots up on the desk, knocking ash off the end of the cigarette. “Anyway, we got three cameras in the store. One behind the counter pointing at the clerks back, one in front of the counter watching the register, and one in the back corner covering the store. System hasn’t been upgraded since the 80’s so don’t get your hopes up that this will crack the case for ya.”

“I appreciate it nonetheless, Ralphie.” Caz grabbed the envelope off the desk and turned toward the door.

“Shut the door on your way out will ya. Sheesh.” Caz heard Ralphie say as he pulled the door closed behind him.

Caz walked up to the counter, there was no line now. “You are Dennis I take it?” Caz asked the clerk.

“Yeah,” Dennis answered. “Sorry about him. He gets grumpy when he has to do any sort of work.”

“It is fine,” Caz said. “Did you know Jackson Montgomery at all?”

“Afraid not, sorry. I’m still pretty new here,” Dennis smiled. “Jackson showed me a few things during a training shift, but that was the only interaction I really had with him.”

“Here is my card, just in case you do think of something, or hear anything. Good luck in your new job.” Caz said, handing Dennis a card before walking to the door.

“Thanks! I feel I might need some luck here haha.” Dennis began sorting through some open boxes which were stacked behind the counter.

Caz left the store, tucking the envelope with the USB drive into his pocket and getting into his car. As he sat down in the driver’s seat, he heard his phone chime in his pocket. Detective Franks had sent him a text.

Hey, it’s Franks! Thanks for getting back to me. I’ll be at Pani Puri Plate at about 1100 with my partner if you can join us. It’s a small, Indian restaurant with some amazing Curry and it isn’t usually too crowded so we’ll have some privacy.

Caz looked down at his watch, it was almost 10 o’clock now. He wouldn’t have time to watch the security footage until he got back to the office. He sent back a quick reply, telling Franks he would meet him at the restaurant.

Caz drove to a public parking lot near where the restaurant was and pulled out Dan’s report, he sighed again while reading over it. He pulled out his pen and began scribbling down notes in the margins.

An hour later, Caz walked into the Pani Puri Plate a few minutes past 11 o’clock. The dining room only had a few occupants. There was an older gentleman reading a newspaper near the front door and a young couple, smiling and talking to each other in hushed tones in a booth. A man with a shaved head and trimmed beard waved at him from a table in the back corner, away from the other customers. A woman with blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun sat next to him.

“Thanks for coming!” the bald man said as Caz pulled out a chair on the other side of the table. “This is my partner, Detective Deena Becker,” he gestured towards the blonde.

“It is good to meet you Detective Becker. I am Caz Donovan,” he put his hand out to shake her hand.

“And you,” Detective Becker said, grasping his hand firmly over the table. “Just call me Becker.”

“So, what fate befell our dear Jackson Montgomery?” Franks asked, taking a drink of water from the plastic cup in front of him.

“As you had guessed, he was killed early yesterday morning in his apartment,” Caz answered. “We were thinking it was drug related, given Mr. Montgomery’s past. We spoke to his dealer- -”

“Good ol’ Cue Ball, right?” Franks interrupted. “Guy’s a real dirtbag. We think he’s the one that’s been selling around the high school.”

“Yes. Mr. Olson,” Caz continued. “He was picked up by some officers at the park. He had a large amount of heroin and paraphernalia with him.

“Sounds like typical Cue Ball,” Franks said. “Guy will never learn. Hopefully they have enough to actually put him away for a while this time.”

“Were you able to get any information out of him about Montgomery?” Becker asked.

“No, unfortunately. He seemed genuinely shocked when I told him what happened, and he has an alibi we are checking. He says he was with his supplier, Billy O’Rourke, all night and into the next day.”

“We know about Billy,” Franks said. “Been working with Lansing to build a case against the whole operation. We haven’t had too much luck though.”

“Just because Cue Ball wasn’t around doesn’t mean he didn’t have anything to do with it, though,” Becker added.

“That is true,” Caz said. “I am working on some other leads as well though.”

A young Indian waitress came to the table carrying a tray with 3 bowls. She put 1 down in front of each of them.

“Hope you don’t mind that I ordered for you. The chicken Curry is the best thing here though. And it’s already paid for” Franks told Caz, picking up a spoon.

“I’ll stick with my vegetarian curry, thank you,” Becker said as she unfolded a napkin and placed it over her lap.

“I do not mind at all,” Caz told Franks. “I actually love curry. I will buy yours next time then.” A savory smell came from the bowl of rice with thick, yellow curry and meaty chunks of chicken.

“So, what else do ya got?” Franks asked, blowing on a steaming spoonful of curry.

“According to a co-worker of his, Jackson was pretty spooked when he left his shift that night. A suspicious van left as she entered the parking lot too. I just picked up some security footage that I hope will show me more.” Caz didn’t mention the tattoo. There wasn’t a reason too unless he could prove a connection.

“Every car that goes there is suspicious,” Franks said after swallowing a bite. “Lots of shady types in that area. I guess it could be connected to his work.”

“And it could be he just pissed off one of his tweaker friends on a bad trip,” Becker said.

“Could be,” Franks said. “Another possibility is he was used as a C.I. at some point. I never heard anyone had used him for information, but I can ask around.”

“I would appreciate that. Thank you,” Caz told Franks and took a bite of the curry. It really was good!

A short time later, the 3 left the restaurant. Caz carried a to-go container with his leftovers as they headed towards their cars.

“The curry is good, I’ll warn you though,” Franks began, “It doesn’t keep to well. If you do eat that, I wouldn’t wait too long. I ate mine a couple days later once and had to call in sick the next day because it ripped my stomach up so bad, haha!”

“And the after effects lasted the rest of the week,” Becker added. “I couldn’t stand being in the car with him. Luckily it was Summer so I could keep the window down. Think I had my head out the window more than I had it in. It was the only way I could breathe.”

“I will be sure to remember that,” Caz chuckled. “Thank you again, for lunch and the information.”

“Anytime! We may be in different departments, but we all want to catch these assholes,” Franks said. “Let us know if there’s anything else we can help with.”

“I will, thank you.” Franks and Becker got into a red car and Caz continued to his own. Now he had to go review the video from the gas station. He also had to give Dan back the report, it was probably going to take him the rest of the afternoon to make the corrections Caz had suggested.

Caz sat at his desk, watching his computer monitor. Ralphie had not been joking about the video quality. The colors were washed out, the image was blurry, and every few minutes a horizontal line would climb its way from the bottom, distorting the picture. There was no audio. 2 of the cameras were watching the counter, but both seemed to be focused on the clerk and register and only showed the backs of the paying customers. The third was in the far corner of the store, showing most of the area, but was too far away to offer any physical detail.

Jackson had worked a 6-hour shift so Caz was reviewing the footage on fast forward, slowing it to normal speed only when customers were in the store. So far it had been uneventful except for a small group of kids who had come in early in the shift. There were 5 of them, all probably around 10-12 years old. 1 of them had gone to the back and picked up a glass soda bottle as if inspecting it. They had dropped the bottle which shattered on the ground, sending glass and sugary liquid across the tile floor. Jackson had put down his magazine and walked down the hall by the bathrooms. While he was away, the children all grabbed handfuls of candy, stuffing them into their pockets and running out of the store. Jackson came back on screen, pushing a mop bucket. He cleaned up the mess and went back to reading from his magazine. Caz was nearing the end of the video now.

“Hey man!” A voice came from behind Caz. He turned to see Dan walking up to him.

“Hello Dan,” Caz said back. “Did you get the report? I left it on your desk.”

“I did,” Dan said, stopping beside Caz. “I wanted to say thanks. I think Cap might’ve actually shot me if I had give him another bad report. I swear, the vein on his forehead looked like it was going to burst when he called me into his office about my last one.”

“It was no problem. I am always happy to help with reports.” Caz said. On the video, 3 people walked through the gas station door. Caz clicked the ‘Play’ button to return it to normal speed.

“Sheesh, even with that terrible resolution those guys look pretty shady.” Dan said, leaning closer to the computer monitor.

The corner camera showed 2 of them walk to the candy aisle, closest to the register. 1 of them had shoulder length, shaggy hair and a bulky jacket on. The other was completely bald and was wearing a leather vest and a short-sleeved shirt. Caz could not make out their facial features.

The third walked up to the counter, staying just outside of the front 2 cameras vision. Jackson had stood and walked to the counter, saying something to the customers. The third person stood facing him, hood up and hands in pockets. Jackson suddenly took a step back towards the cigarette wall behind him, putting his hands out in front. The 2 in the candy aisle walked over and stood behind the hooded person. Jackson quickly stepped back forward, grabbing a short wooden bat from beneath the counter then stepped back again. With his free hand, Jackson pointed to the front door, saying something to the 3. The 1 wearing the hood pulled his hands out of his pockets, putting them out in front of him and making small gestures downward as if telling Jackson to calm down.

After a moment, the 3 turned and left the store, the bald one grabbing a pepperoni stick on his way past the counter. Caz could not make out what it was, but as the bald man reached for the pepperoni with his left hand, the camera watching the register showed a black mark on the inside of his forearm. Caz quickly paused the video and backed it up frame by frame until the mark was visible on screen again.

“Looks like 1 of ‘em has a tattoo,” Dan said. “Good eye, I would’ve missed that. Too bad those cameras suck so bad. Can’t make out what it is. It’s something though.” Dan patted Caz’s shoulder and began walking away. “Good luck!” he called over his shoulder.

Caz sat at the computer, staring at the man’s forearm hoping to see it was just a skull or a name or a maybe even a zodiac sign. But, even if Dan didn’t know what the tattoo was, Caz did. It was a crow perched on the branch of an apple tree. Just like Jackson Montgomery, and like Caz himself, this man had been connected to the Family.