Page 32 of One Final Target

Smiley turned; Sam could feel his eyes on him for a few seconds before he focused back on the road. “Yeah, I guess I can agree with you. But, Sam, I hope you know and believe, nobody blames you for Rick’s death. There wasn’t anything you could have done.”

Nothing I could have done.

“I hear you.”

“Good. Glad you’re on the team. Everything from here on out is on topic.”

Sam stayed quiet for the rest of the ride, but his mind was active and questioning. Ever since he’d read the file on the IED and Jodie’s team, there was one big “how” no one had answered to his satisfaction: How did the killer know the time and day her team would be serving the warrant? Or who they were serving the warrant on? Only cops knew those details. Sam hadn’t seen any indication of a dirty cop. The only bit different from other warrant services was the reliance on Jukebox, Jodie’s CI. He’d fed Jodie a lot of information on Hayes, some of which ended up in the warrant paperwork.

Yet from what Smiley had heard from Mike King, Jodie recently learned about a cryptic text from Jukebox, who indicated everything was a setup. He hadn’t been able to reach Jodie to warn her in time. Sam could only imagine how the news affected Jodie.

Oh, Lord,he prayed,I know Jodie is hurting. Please ease her spirit.

The irony didn’t escape Sam. It wasn’t Jodie’s fault her team was murdered; there was nothing she could have done to prevent it. Yet when it came to what happened to Rick, though Smiley and others kept telling him he was not to blame, he couldn’t believe it, not completely. Sometimes the guilt felt like a weight on his soul. How on earth did Jodie function feeling the same kind of guilt times four—five now?

CHAPTER19

THE ADDRESS FOR DENNIS COLLINSJodie copied was in a residential section of Lakewood, just over the border of Long Beach on a street called Adenmoor Avenue. From Seal Beach Jodie made her way to Bellflower Boulevard, which ran through Long Beach and into Lakewood. Crossing over Carson Street in the east part of the city put her in Lakewood. A few blocks after entering the city, Jodie turned onto Centralia and then onto Adenmoor.

A planned city, Lakewood had been built in the 1950s, cookie-cutter homes for growing post-WWII families. Jodie drove through a cozy residential neighborhood, with mature trees and neatly kept yards. It was a pleasant Tuesday afternoon. Kids had probably just gotten home from school; several were playing basketball in a driveway. There was a man mowing the yard at Collins’s address. Not Collins. A gardener maybe?

She parked and sat for a moment, realizing how far over the line she was about to step. Even if she were still in uniform, she would not be investigating the IED or the CHP shooting. If Mike discovered her stepping out like this, and she were still employed, a suspension would not be out of the realm of possibility. As a private citizen she wasn’t certain what the penalty would be.

Still... whatever the penalty was would be worth it if she caught the person responsible for so much bloodshed. In for a penny, in for a pound.

Jodie got out of the car about the same time the man stopped to empty the lawn mower bag.

“Excuse me,” she called out.

He turned toward her. “Yes?”

“Sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for Dennis. Is he home?”

The man pulled a rag from his pocket and mopped his forehead. “He doesn’t live here anymore. We bought this house from him a year ago.”

Taken aback, Jodie scrambled. “Oh, um, would you happen to have a forwarding address?”

“Who are you?”

She’d have to tell a white lie and hope he swallowed it. “Sorry, I’m Sergeant King, Long Beach PD. Dennis applied to be an officer. I interviewed him.”

“Interviewed him for the PD? No kidding.”

“No, uh, yes. I’m simply following up.”

He hesitated for a moment. “You have ID?”

Jodie pulled out her expired city ID and hoped the man didn’t look too closely.

He glanced at it and said, “I thought you looked familiar. You’ve been on the news a lot. Give me a second. I’ll get the addressfor you.” He fiddled with the mower, then stopped. Jodie feared her ruse had failed. But he said, “The guy never put in a forwarding address with the post office. We’re always sending him his mail. He doesn’t get a lot, but I do have a few pieces now. Can I give you the latest packet?”

“Uh, certainly. I’ll get it to him. Thanks.”

He shoved the rag back in his pocket and left the lawn mower to go into his house. A few minutes later he returned with a full manila envelope addressed to Collins.

“He didn’t move far.”

Jodie took the item. “Thanks again.”

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