Arlington, Texas, En Route, 2019
Just like any other Texan city, Arlington was no less immune to the usual morning and afternoon rush hours. Luke Sutherland drummed his fingers up and down the steering wheel of his 1967 Ford Mustang GT, getting more and more anxious with each passing minute the wheels weren't in motion.
He stared miserably at the dusty rear of a Chevrolet pickup a yard ahead, smirking at the irony of the Eat My Dust bumper sticker staring back at him.
Usually by this time, Luke would already be at his desk and he'd have missed the rush hour altogether. But this hadn't been a typical weekday morning.
"Mr. Sutherland, you may think your son's actions are amusing but I can assure you… this is a very serious issue."
As far as Luke could tell, his son's tired looking principal, Mr. Brite, was an idiot. The man did nothing to counter the bulling in his school; and then reprimanded the kids who were only trying to stick up for themselves.
As Luke mused this over, the vehicles up ahead began a slow creep forward, which was still frustrating but definitely better than not moving at all.
It also happened to be one of those overly hot and sticky days Texas was famous for; steam rising up off the asphalt, highlighting the car fumes and grating on already overwrought nerves.
I'd kill for air-conditioning!
The heat, in turn, caused a few irate drivers to lose their heads entirely and fruitlessly beep at their horns.
You can beep all you want, buddy! It's not gonna magically remove the 300 cars ahead of us!
Luke couldn't afford to be late to work. His boss, Don Lair, was an old, grumpy, mean son of a bitch with zero patience for tardiness. Hell, the week before he fired poor little Liam Hamworth just for accidentally dropping a pane of glass.
But as the clock ticked past 9, Luke decided stressing was pointless. He was already late anyway. Besides, he was pretty sure his popularity with the customers would be enough to give Don second thoughts about canning him.
At least this is what saved Luke two years ago when Don first discovered Luke's wife was actually Luke's husband. Luke still shivered when he recalled the screaming and threats the red faced Don made to him thatday.
But it seemed Luke's worth as manager to Don was greater than the man's personal issues regarding homosexuality and since Luke needed the job, both men fell quietly within the bounds of an unspoken agreement to look the other way as far as this issue was concerned. They definitely never spoke about it.
Luke dreaded to think how Don would react if he knew the wholetruth.
And lately Luke had even less reason to worry.
A letter recently arrived that even had the old man smiling. It was personally handwritten by Tarrant County District Attorney Thomas Martinelli, who praised Luke and his team of mechanics for the excellent and speedy service in repairing his accident-damaged BMW.
"My wife, Sarah, almost lost her life in that car and Mr. Sutherland handled my situation with much compassion," Martinelli wrote.
And that wasn't all. Since Luke took over as manager three years previously, the business was more organized and customers flooded in, knowing they would get fair and fast service.
It wasn't just the customers, who were fond of Luke either. He had the absolute loyalty of the team he'd carefully selected over the years. And Luke made sure to remind Don that the letter was as much a compliment to the men, who worked for him, as it was to Luke.
With this thought giving him courage, Luke sighed in relief as he finally pulled up in his usual hidden parking space behind the service department.
"Relax," Rose Cohen placated from the reception desk as Luke entered the front office, eyes scanning for Don. With the phone pressed to her ear, she shuffled papers around and periodically entered numbers, two-fingered, into the computer. "He's at the dentist."
Rose was about as old as the garage itself; coming up to her 40-year service award. She was overweight (bordering on obese), crinkled like a tossed potatoe chip bag; and she spoke in a gravelly voice that betrayed her three-pack-a-day smoking habit. She also had one hell of a temper if you caught her on an off-day, and there wasn't one person working at Leyton's Motors who would ever dare to cross her.
Honestly, Rose was the one running the place and most likely would be manager if it weren't for Don's archaic disregard for the intelligence of the fairer sex. If Luke had a question, he could always depend on Rose for the answer.
For this reason, he treated her with the utmost respect.
"Sorry I'm late," he apologized. "Leo got into a fight at school yesterday and I had to go in to speak to the principal."
"The gay thing again?" she asked; huffing her disapproval of bigots.
"Nope. Actually this time it was the trailer park thing. Some kid made the mistake of teasing him in front of the class. So Leo punched him out flat."
"Well good for him!" she declared, pumping a fist in the air.
He grinned with pride and waved at her as he entered the busy repair shop, stepping over bits of car engine and paneling, greeting his team of seven mechanics along the way.
Luke knew he shouldn't encourage Leo's behavior; and externally he berated his son for it, grounding the boy for two weeks. But internally he was glad the kid never let the bullies win. Really, he wished he'd been more like Leo at that age.
He hummed along to the radio blaring through the workshop; grabbed a coffee from the small storage room that doubled as a staff canteen. and finally reached his desk.
He hadn't even taken a sip when a glint of sunlight on metal and a sharp movement drew his attention to the window. At least a dozen men were gathering outside from all directions and…
… at least one of them had a gun!
Shit!
Luke didn't even stop to think. As he heard the commotion hit the workshop and a scream of shock from Rose, it was a natural response to open his desk drawer and go for his hidden Glock 22.
But it was a mistake.
His office door burst open and rifle butts smashed the glass window. He was horrified to find himself face to face with three heavily armed men; dressed all in black and bedecked in body armor.
"FBI! Do not move!"
The barrel of the closest rifle trained on Luke looked enormous from Luke's point of view. He trembled in terror.
"Slowly place the gun on the floor; and move away from the desk!"
Luke swallowed. He didn't even remember raising his arms, but his handgun was now pointing up at the ceiling.
This is it! I'm going to die.
The first gunmen to enter the room surrounded the desk to allow a few more inside. Luke felt like a hunted deer cornered in a dark forest, heart racing faster than the wind.
"Put it down!"
The command was so loud it startled Luke and he jumped, making all the rifles trained on him rattle metallically as the arms holding them lifted nervously.
"Down! Now!"
Luke was terrified any movement of his gun-toting hand would spook one or more of the agents in the room. His stomach tied itself into a tumble of knots and drops of sweat ran in sheets down his brow, stinging his eyes.
"I'm scared," he whispered.
"Everything will be okay if you just lower the weapon. Slowly place the weapon on the desk and step away."
Luke nodded and followed these instructions, relieved once the gun left his fingers.
How did they find us?
He lifted his arms wide and stepped shakily from behind the desk. The instant he cleared the vicinity of his gun he was thrown flat and painfully to the floor; the wind knocked out of him. He coughed madly and groaned as his arms were twisted behind his back and he felt that inevitable pain of metal cuffs clasping shut.
We've been so careful.
His mind reeled as he tried to understand where they'd gone wrong.
A pair of military-issue boots appeared in his restricted line of vision such as it was with one cheek pressed against the carpet.
"Luke Sutherland?"
He stretched his neck at a strange angle as to look up at the person who spoke.
"Yes."
"You the manager?"
"Yes."
"I'm FBI Special Agent Adrian Williams."
The man stooped down to show his badge but Luke's mind was too busy trying to formulate a plan of escape to see it properly.
"We've had reports of illegal activity. We have a warrant to search these premises."
Wait, what? What the fuck?
"You are under arrest for threatening federal officers in the line of duty."
Something was off.
"Can I sit up?" Luke asked in his most non-hostile voice. His neck was throbbing painfully from trying to look up at Agent Williams.
Two men pulled him up by his elbows and threw him unceremoniously into his office chair.
There were people everywhere. Luke saw a mix of both FBI and DEA jackets passing by the door. He could hear loud shouts and questions being asked of his men; things crashing and banging inside the warehouse; Rose complaining indignantly of the mess they were making.
They're not here for me…
He took a chance, "What exactly are you looking for?"
Rose was escorted into his office just as Agent Williams answered, "This is a drug raid."
"A what?" she exclaimed, hands coming up to her wrinkled face in shock, "Drugs? Here? It's not possible! You tell them Luke! It's just not possible!"
"If this is just a drug raid then… why are the FBI involved?" Luke asked.
"This drug cell is believed to be connected to a couple of cross-state homicides currently under FBI investigation."
"And you think I'm involved in drugs…" Luke wasn't really asking a question, rather trying to make sense of the situation for himself and hopefully find a way out of it. It seemed things were not as bad as he first thought.
"Areyou?" Williams lowered his lids at Luke, "Because according to our surveillance, at least half your workforce is."
Shit! So much for being loyal!
"Involved how?" Luke asked.
"Selling and using."
Luke's brain throbbed incessantly as it worked overtime.
"Well…" he tried, "I can assure you I have nothingto do with it."
"It's true!" Rose insisted. "Luke is a good boy!"
Luke wanted to kiss her.
"Is that right?" Williams smugly asked, "...a good boy who just tried to shoot at federal agents."
"Oh come on!" Luke complained. "I had no ideawho you guys were! You just busted in here with guns. It was a natural reaction. I swear!"
Williams chewed on his inner cheek as he considered Luke's self-defense story.
"We identified ourselves," he finally said.
"Only after I pulled the gun…" Luke countered.
"Hmmm." Williams looked slightly less convinced. "Still. I'd rather you stayed put while we undertake our search. Don't move!"
As if I could!
As Luke sat amidst the noise of the ongoing investigation, he shook his head.
What rotten luck!
He fought the tears that threatened to fall. Were they really stupid to think they could ever leave the past behind them?
Tiny pinpricks at the tips of his fingers were the only external indication of the terror eating him up from the inside. But the fear wasn't for himself. As far as Luke cared, his life was expendable so long as his family were safe.
The FBI had yet to work out exactly whoit was they had sitting handcuffed to a chair in the office of a vehicle repair garage. But it was only a matter of time. All they had to do was run a few fingerprints through the National Law Enforcement Registry; and the game was up.
He grappled with a million ways to try and warn Noah; and wondered how they'd ever explain themselves to Leo.
God! Leo!
"Rose," he asked the trembling women in the chair across his office, "could you please call Noah?"
She shook her head, "They took my cell. And the phone lines were cut."
Dammit!
Luke closed his eyes against the pain of all they had to lose.
We really thought we'd made it.
He was older than the boy in the pictures on the FBI's 10 Most Wanted List; longer hair a shade darker, stubble from his rushed morning. At the moment, it was the only reason they hadn't recognized him.
But that was simply a matter of time.
