I had to let out a laugh. Finally, I said, “Okay, I’ll probably say something like, ‘My brother sends his regards.’”

“What about, ‘You shouldn’t have left me alive’?”

We chatted a little longer. The connection to home was revitalizing. Then he said, “There is one thing. I probably shouldn’t even mention it.”

“What is it?” I tried to keep the edge out of my voice.

“Mom thinks someone might be following her still.”

“Did you tell Bill? He could figure it out or get the right help if he needed it.”

“She hasn’t left Marlboro. It’s not in Newburgh. He and I talked about it. He’s been by the house more and he’s checking. I just thought I’d let you know.” He paused, then said, “I’m telling you because you don’t have enough to worry about.”

We both laughed at that.

I needed the stress relief of a good laugh. My brother told me to be careful. And I told him to get well. For a change, we both meant it.

I went about my patrol route. Endless laps around the narrow, blacktop road. Then it happened. I noticed a beat-up Chevy pickup truck leaving the detention facility. I was about a half mile away, but on that flat, wide-open plain, I could see everything.

I didn’t even have to hit the gas to reach the road about the same time the truck came out of the access road from the detention facility. The blue truck had a faded Deep River logo on the driver’s door. The windshield was cracked and the tailgate missing altogether.

I pulled in behind it and hit the cheesy blue light stuck on the dash of my Nissan. The Chevy pulled over immediately. As I climbed out, I was surprised to see the driver was none other than Rick Jackson. I couldn’t wait to see the expression on his face when he saw me here. This was going to be sweet.

As I walked along the side of the truck, the driver’s door opened, and Jackson stepped out like it was no big deal.

I had my hand behind me, holding the end of my ASP. I could pop the expandable baton out in a split second and crack him right over the head if I needed to. First, I wanted to hear what he had to say when he saw me.

He glanced back toward me and recognition spread over his face. He actually smiled. Then he surprised me by saying, “Hey, Mitchum, you got here a lot faster than I expected.”

Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Jackson could not have been more relaxed. That pissed me off. He shouldn’t get to look so smug and satisfied. He leaned on the side of the Chevy, then casually put his hands into the pockets of his windbreaker. It was like we were chatting during a break at work.