Chapter 1
As if I wasn’t speeding enough already, now I need to deal with this shit.
Initially, we were supposed to go on a trip to Costa Rica for missionary work with Father Roberts, but that never came to fruition. He made his way down and did the job to great success, according to him. He went shortly after Gaines’s arrest and transfer to FCI. It was hard for me to get free time. Maria and I spent the months after Gaines’s detention continuing the case, working through as much of the paper trail we could find. Maria focused on Erin and her web of cons and name changes. This took her all over the country following up on old cases, now pinned with her MO. I spent most of my time working with Cappelano, continuing our work on his cases. The problem is that Gaines was getting into Frank’s head and mine. We would drift off-topic for hours at a time. I’ll catch up on that shit show more, but for now, let’s just enjoy the breeze as Father Roberts sleeps in the passenger seat.
Maria and I were unable to make the Costa Rica trip with Father Roberts, a few months ago. We planned a new trip, not nearly as far as Central America. Still, a fulfilling getaway allowing us to relax but also give back. Instead of helping Father Roberts build a community center in the slums of Costa Rica, we are working with a soup kitchen that needs support and some work done. At the same time, they have staff out of town. Father Roberts knows I like using my hands, doing carpentry work, making this trip a win all around.
We are staying in a small house I rented for the three of us, for a few weeks. I might stay longer; we’ll see. I’m pretty burned out; it’s been a long, rough couple of years. I also have an endless supply of footage to review and type. This gives me a chance to review it all. We’re driving from Detroit to Santa Fe, New Mexico, not flying. I thought it would be relaxing, as well as giving Father Roberts and me time to talk and catch up. Maria is flying down in a couple of days. Since she continues to be active in the bureau, she still has some rules to follow on vacation. As I’m the owner of my own company, I can set up a shop there if I want and never go back.
“Neil, how far until the next stop? I could use a break, maybe something to drink.” Father Roberts was waking up.
“We’re a little past halfway into the trip, somewhere in Kansas. The GPS says we have a little over ten hours left in the trip, and we’re about six hours from Amarillo, Texas.”
“What’s in Amarillo? I didn’t know that was a stop.” Half-awake Father was still lost.
“According to the last fifteen billboards in Kansas, the biggest steak in Texas is there. Figured we would stop and grab a bite.”
“I’m always game for a big steak, but that sounds pretty far still. Can we pull off somewhere to get gas, use the bathroom, and stretch our legs?”
“No problem, Father. I’ll hit the next stop we see.”
“Neil, are you doing, OK? I know the first couple of hours all we did was talk about Cappelano and Gaines. Have you finally gotten that out of your system?”
“I wish, Father, but I hope this long drive can deal with that. I want to have as clear a mind as I can when we get there.”
Since closing the Cappelano case, and recently the Gaines case for the second time in a week, I have been drained. It’s not surprising that I would be running on fumes after all this chaos. Still, I haven’t slept a decent night since Cappelano, and Gaines became acquainted at FCI Milan. The boys and I at BCI started a war room with Gaines on the wall. “Why?”, you might ask. He’s locked up, yes. He still has significant influence on what goes on outside of prison with his company and his enterprise.
We’ve been able to connect Gaines to local politicians and power players in the community. TJ is confident there is another stash of money that we have yet to find, allowing Gaines to keep up his influence. I agree that the way someone of Gaines’s stature controls others starts with cash. We thought we had given Gaines’s empire a blow with the financial moves but looks as though we merely stunted his growth. Gaines is still making moves. The board even reinstated him with a temporary leave while he finishes dealing with his court case and prison time.
Enough about Gaines for now, this trip is about unwinding from that stress. Driving across the country in my navy-blue Challenger has been fun. Ken made sure and bought me an excellent radar detector for the trip down, to minimize the tickets. It’s been fun to mess with Father Roberts and punch it over 115 now and again. My favorite part has been driving in the middle of nowhere. The calmness out here has been just what I needed. Like the ways a shower, or the rhythm I get when punching a heavy bag, the road is hypnotizing me.
“Father, according to the GPS we have a gas station coming up in a few miles. We can pull off, stretch our legs, then head into Amarillo for dinner.”
“Okay, sounds great. Are you sure you’re still good driving? I was able to get a nap, so I’m refreshed.” Father Roberts yawned as he woke up.
“Right now, I’m doing great. The drive is calming for me, I’ll be fine. Especially with us stopping soon, I’ll be good to go.”
As we finished driving through the plains of Kansas, I began dreaming of the giant steak I keep seeing billboards for; it’s insane. I feel like I started seeing those billboards a few states ago, for a small town in the middle of nowhere, Texas. I guess it’s working because I really want to go there for some reason. I can assume that Father Roberts is the same, since he is licking his chops every time, we pass one.
“Neil, if we pass another billboard talking about large steaks, but don’t eat soon, I might start eating your arm.”
“Father, calm down. We’re only a few minutes from a truck stop. We can fill up the car, get you something to eat, and get back on the road. Before you know it, we’ll be in Amarillo.”
“I never thought I’d be looking forward to Amarillo, Texas. What does that say about the past couple of hours of driving?” Father has a point.
“I’m with you. We can pull off, get something to eat, and then it’s a short four-hour drive to Santa Fe, where we can relax.”
“Neil, you know we aren’t going to relax. We have a ton of work to do, starting in two days. You will get tonight and tomorrow when Maria lands to settle in. Then it’s working at the soup kitchen. You’ve got to help us build a new storage shed.”
“I think we’ll be able to manage. Compared to the life I usually lead; it will feel like a vacation just the same.”
After witty back-and-forth banter, we made it to the truck stop. Luckily, we arrived when we did, because Father Roberts was close to dying of starvation and dehydration. Then again, he is a bit melodramatic when he’s hungry, like Carol Lynn when she was five. She used to throw the biggest tantrums when she was hungry. You would have thought we were the Gestapo starving her. Father Roberts is doing his best impersonation of his five-year-old self.
“Neil, thank you for stopping. That was needed, not just getting out and stretching my legs, but also getting something to eat.”
“I know, the car is comfortable, but sitting stationary for eight hours is brutal regardless.”
“You have a point there. How long is it until Amarillo?”
“Just over five hours from here. We should be pulling into Amarillo between four and five. Perfect for a quick dinner, then back on the road to get into Santa Fe around nine or ten at night. With the time change, it won’t be too bad.”
“That has been crazy, I would have thought by now we’d be past Central Standard Time and into the others by now.” Father Roberts has a point; it’s nuts how big CST is.
“Let hop back in the car, get rolling, and grab that big-ass steak. Although something tells me, we are going to be drastically underwhelmed.”
My theory is that any restaurant that has to advertise from three states away to drum up interest might not have the best food in the world. It may just be great advertising, but it’s also something to think about. For now, I’m going to set the speed at ninety, and we might get there a bit sooner.
“Let’s get to move on. If you need me to drive, just let me know.”
“Father, I’m not sure my car can allow it after the few hours you drove this morning, doing the speed limit or slower. I could feel my car weeping on your underperforming driving.”
“You’ve been an ass since we were kids. Great to see nothing has changed.”
Father Roberts was right. Our relationship hasn’t changed much over the decades, just the way we lead our lives. He is still my best friend, the person I go to, and the best Euchre partner a bro can have. If you’re not from the Midwest, I’ll take a minute and let you Google it. Having a primo partner for a skill game such as Euchre made my teen-through-twenty years quite profitable. However, Father Roberts’s priestly conscience can get in the way from time to time. I tried to get him in on a company Euchre tournament. He wouldn’t, knowing we’d probably smoke everyone.
The rest of the drive was a beautiful one. Father Roberts began his daily meditations. At the same time, I started reaching out to Ken and Maria to check in on everyone. I had been texting with Sheila and Carol Lynn most of the trip. If you are wondering about the girls, I have one of the guys staying at my place, in the spare bedroom, keeping an eye on them.
“Hey Ken, how’s it going? Have we made any progress on anything? I saw your text a few hours ago to call, but the signal has been spotty at best.”
“We have some news about Gaines and the case overall. I’m not sure you’re going to like it, though. It’s the kind of information that might make you slam on the brakes or the gas pedal and do over a hundred.”
“Ken, I’m not that easily thrown off. Unless you are about to tell me, he’s getting released on a plea deal, I think I’ll be okay.”
“It’s not that, Neil, so we’re good there. I think he likes it there with Cappelano. Gaines already feels comfortable in prison; hell, he converted his cell, damn near upgraded it all.”
“Yeah, that shit pissed me off, but what are you going to do? There are loopholes in every system. Not to mention money talks. Get to it. What’s the crap news?”
“Remember how the warden was an assistant filling in, after you got the other one arrested? Gaines pulled some strings and got a former member of his board as the replacement warden of the prison. TJ is working on the connections needed to pull it off.”
I punched the gas, just like Ken thought I would. The speedometer went up, reading 90, then 95, and eventually settling between 120 and 130. Father Roberts began breathing heavily and punching me in the arm.
“Isn’t that just great, Ken? Gaines gets to handpick the person who oversees his incarceration. Maybe they can just give him a key and let him come and go as he pleases.”
“Hey Neal, is everything okay over there? It sounds like Father Roberts isn’t too happy with your driving. Are you speeding?”
“Of course, I’m speeding. It was either that or slamming on the brakes going almost ninety.”
“I’m not sure either is a good way to take the news.Ken was raising his voice.
“Neil, are you going to slow down?”, Father Roberts asked excitedly.
“I’m down to one-ten, but I guess I can keep slowing down for you, since you look like you’re going to throw up.”
“Thanks, Neil, very friendly of you.” Father Roberts looked worn out.
“Neil, I knew I should have waited to tell you, but I’m not a fan of lying or withholding information from you. You know that.”
Yes, he should have waited to tell me. Now we’re going to get to Amarillo in record time. I’m slowly increasing speed without Father Roberts noticing, and I’m back up over 110. This car rides so smoothly. It’s hard to tell, especially under 130. Thinking through the news Ken just dropped on me, I quickly said ’bye and hung up. My car ride companion didn’t even bother to ask me what was wrong.
Gaines has picked his captor, in essence. He has a personal connection that will allow him to move with even more ease in the walls of FCI Milan. I’ll see how bad the scenario is going to be once I get the breakdown from TJ of how the guy is, and how he’s tied to Gaines. Think of it in terms of being punished as a kid. If you were told to sit in a corner and stare at a wall, it was a real punishment. If you lived on a ranch, you might have to mend fences and spend the day working tirelessly. If your punishment were to go to your room and think about what you did, with your favorite video game system, computer, and TV, it’s not quite as bad.
With this sour taste in my mouth, I don’t want to call Maria; I don’t want to talk to anyone. I’m going to crank up the radio, drive fast, and get to Amarillo. As I was speeding, in my own head, and enjoying some loud Frank Sinatra, I saw a text come through. I didn’t pay any mind to it since my signal has been so bad.
“Neil, want me to read it to you, seeing as you’re driving fast as shit?”
“Sure, Father, lay it on me. Who’s it from?”
“It’s from Maria, and it says, ‘Don’t be alarmed, but I’m pretty sure someone is following me! Also, neither one of us has any signal whatsoever.’”
Isn’t this just great? As if I wasn’t speeding enough already, now I need to deal with this shit.
