Keep Her Safe(20)

“We started noticing a big problem with the drugs coming into Austin. Our patrol divisions were stumbling on it all over the place; they couldn’t keep up. I knew I had to take the bull by the horns before Austin turned into another Laredo.”

That’s being a little bit dramatic, given that Laredo borders Mexico, but I can appreciate his point. Like he said, we are only a couple hundred miles away—and some days, the distance feels even shorter.

“So I assigned four officers to a narcotics field unit. Their job was simple—to hit the streets and bust as many dealers as possible. Big, small, didn’t matter. Uncover the stash houses and labs, seize everything. Shut ’em down. Don’t let them get comfortable in my city.

“And son, let me tell you, these guys were good. They were dogged, churning through tips, securing informants. They were sniffin’ out dealers like bloodhounds.” Canning chuckles. “That’s what I called them—my hounds. Dumbest thing Poole coulda done when he took over for me after my heart attack was shut them down. Budget cuts, my ass.

“Anyway . . . they caught wind of a patrol officer who was emptying the pockets of dealers he’d come across on routine calls and reselling at a discount. They didn’t have a name. All they knew was this guy was of African descent.” He stares into his drink. “Not long after, Abraham Wilkes turns up dead in a motel room with Hernandez. Wasn’t too hard to connect the dots.”

“What do you think happened the night Abe died?”

“Who knows? Maybe Hernandez wanted more drugs for less money. Maybe he didn’t know Wilkes was a cop and panicked when he found out. Maybe Wilkes threatened him with somethin’. These guys . . . they’re lowlife criminals; some of them are dumb as dirt. There ain’t no rationalizing with them.” He takes another long puff of his cigar. “But it was all cut and dry what was goin’ on in there—a gym bag full of a bit of this, a bit of that . . . a brown paper bag with piles of twenties. No sensible explanation for why Wilkes would be in that seedy motel that night. Still, I hoped for another reason, for my own sake as much as the department’s.

“But the evidence against Abe quickly piled on. We traced a call from Hernandez to him earlier that night. We found cash and drugs stashed away in his house, taped to the back of furniture, in the vents, under the mattress. We were able to link the drugs to batches checked in to the evidence room, from busts he’d been at over the last month.” He shakes his head. “It’s a damn shame that he lost his way like that.”

The steady tick of the old grandfather clock is the only sound in Silas’s study for a long moment, as I take in all that Canning has told me. It makes no sense when it’s laid out next to what my mother said. But, then again, she was drunk and in a poor state of mind. Still, I’m confused. “So, how was my mom involved in all this?”

George frowns. “Jackie? She wasn’t involved. I put together an investigative team with my very best people, but she didn’t have nothin’ to do with that. I never would have allowed that, what with her being close friends with him—partners, too—for years. She didn’t want to believe it, but the evidence was impossible to ignore. That was a hard pill for her to swallow.”

She washed that hard pill down with plenty of booze. “What about his family?”

George clucks. “It was just his mother, and the only thing she was ever gonna accept was a report that said Abe Wilkes was framed and murdered. She wanted a lie. She refused to believe the truth, even when it was finally there in front of them, in bold black ink.” He shakes his head. “And his wife, well, she up and took off with the kid. I guess she decided that all would come out in due time. Hell, she probably already knew what was comin’. She was his wife, after all. If there was extra money under their mattress, I have to think she’d have noticed it while she was tuckin’ in the sheets. Probably turned a blind eye. Given where she came from, it wouldn’t surprise me one bit.”

Where she came from? The Dina I remember was pretty and gentle and slight. She spoke softly. She wore floral dresses and baked chocolate-chip cookies and delivered her husband bottles of beer at barbecues, with a kiss. She was everything my mother wasn’t.

“What happened to her?”

“Started her life over elsewhere, I reckon. Can’t say I blame her. Being the wife of a cop who got himself into selling drugs won’t earn you no prize at the county fair, that’s for damn sure. As I recall, she didn’t even bother comin’ back to ask for the report once we released it.” His brow tightens. “It’s odd, don’t you think? Wouldn’t she want to see it, for closure?”

“Unless she already knew he was guilty.”

“Exactly.” George levels me with a somber look. “And unfortunately, Abraham Wilkes was as guilty as they come. Of course, we can’t try a dead man, but any jury would have seen it for what it was.”

“Seen what for what it was?” Silas asks, stepping back in.

“Jackie’s old partner, Abraham Wilkes.”

Silas’s eyes dart to mine, and I see the warning question in them: Did I tell George what my mom said?

I give him the slightest shake of my head, and I can see him exhale. He reaches for his drink. “Some people can’t help but abuse the authority they’re given.”