A/N: This is a shorter chapter, it's a bit darker than I usually write, but there are some important details that I didn't want to get lost amid a busy chapter! Also - I've put two chapters up this week, be sure to read Chapter 24 so you don't miss any of the excitement! Thank you for your patience as I set up for the confrontation! Thanks to all of you who continue to read and/or review! ENJOY!
Chapter 25 – Darkness Falls On Hazzard
In any man who dies there dies with
him his first snow and kiss and fight...
Not people die but worlds die in them.
~Yevgeny Yevtushenko, "People"
The grey mist gave the forest near Chalk Hills a haunted appearance and the air around Enos grew cold. He flew down Route 4 with lights and sirens blaring, his heart lodged somewhere in his throat. In all his years of service to Hazzard County, he had seen the occasional suicide during difficult droughts and the heartbreak of tragic auto accidents, but never this. He was about to pull up to a normal looking farmhouse, but inside two of five people had not survived.
Enos longed for the simplicity of his past; days spent in sweltering heat at outlandish speed traps and the thrill of driving around dusty curves at breakneck speeds. In those days, he was free to act the fool and bungle a chase by a turn of the wheel. He remembered that Hazzard County. This type of violence was too reminiscent of L.A.
He pulled to the side of the road, cutting off his lights and sirens as two ambulances sped away from the safehouse. The rain had slowed to a light drizzle and an officer in a yellow rain slicker waved him through the barricade. The number of officers at the scene astounded him and taxed his frayed nerves. He parked in the haze beneath a row of pine trees and stepped out of the car.
The engine began dieseling and shook the vehicle as it whirred loudly. Enos became the center of attention and officers flung disparaging looks his way.
Ding dang it…
He pulled on his raincoat and moved into the maze of people in an effort to disappear. The engine eventually sputtered then cut out, so much for a discreet entry.
His surroundings grew oppressive as he made his way through the men. Eyes bore through him and conversations hushed as he walked past. The lull in discussion amplified the sound of his feet squishing through mud, causing his anxiety to ratchet higher. Every time he lifted his eyes, he saw someone point or stare. As his hackles rose, his trust in people slipped further into a dark abyss.
Glancing over to see the coroner's van, he hurried his pace, quickly reaching the porch and shutting out everything but his job.
"Chuck?" Enos extended his hand. "I'm sure sorry. I got here as fast as I could."
"Thanks for coming." Chuck had aged overnight. His eyes were rimmed with red and he cleared his throat repeatedly. "This is Blake's work, but Monroe left a calling card. C'mon. I have something to show you. I'll walk you through and try to get you out quick. They're still inside."
Enos gripped his gun belt to keep his hands steady. "Jenkins and Latimer?"
"Yeah, they didn't make it." A ragged sigh followed his dreadful confirmation. "The other two agents are in critical condition. The M.E. just got here and the forensics team will be here all day, watch your step and don't touch anything. We don't know much yet, but I'll tell you what I can."
Enos again wondered about time. Two lives were taken as quickly as he had wiped his boots on the mat. Deep sadness and misplaced responsibility inundated him as he followed Chuck inside. The door was Jenkins and Latimer's last portal to the outside world. It chilled him to know they would never walk out. When he stepped in the living room an unpleasant metallic smell permeated the air and violated his senses. There were bullet holes riddled in every wall.
He met the two agents while waiting on Canyon Springs Road last night. Jenkins' lifeless body now lay in the hallway. The agent had been sympathetic about Jenny, but didn't push the subject. He was kind right from the start. The man had beamed proudly and pulled out his wallet when Enos asked if he had a family. The pictures of Jenkins' wife and three year old daughter were now heartbreaking images in Enos's mind.
He quickly turned away, only to have his eyes fall to Latimer. He lay just inside the door. He had been Jenkins' partner for five years and was caring for his elderly mother. He wasn't sure if he had siblings to step in for him. Enos suddenly paled and stared at a crack in the ceiling.
"Hey, you all right?" Chuck slapped his shoulder.
"Yes sir. This just don't happen...not in Hazzard. They both…" he let the thought drift away.
"I know. They had family responsibilities. I guess it makes us look at our own. Becky's been on my mind since I got here. I've sent grief counselor's and agents to both of their homes. It doesn't seem like enough, you know?" Chuck again cleared his throat. "Enos? Have you heard anything about Jenny?"
The heartache slammed into him. Even though he had poured out all those tears with Emily, he still had such a void without her. Not knowing was the hardest part.
"Not yet. Jaxon is tryin' real hard and he's expectin' a call today." Enos rubbed his eyes. "There's so much I wanna say to her." I love you, Jenny.
"Hang in there," he put a hand on his shoulder. "Follow me, what you need to see is back here."
"Yes sir." Ignoring the pang in his chest, Enos regained his composure and followed Chuck's specific steps to the room where Phil stayed.
Chuck continued to explain. "We think they took the team out front by surprise, maybe with silenced weapons. One agent was by the car, the other near the porch. The shooter breeched the door, exchanged fire with Jenkins and Latimer and went after the prisoner."
"What happened to Phil?"
"He's missing." Chuck replied bitterly. "Blake deviated from Monroe's usual protocol. There are no signs of a struggle in Phil's room. Monroe would normally kill him and the two agents outside. They were either very sloppy or in a big hurry. I suppose his body may show up later. I talked to Jenkins before I called you. He was supposed to bring Phil to the station at 7:00. They are trying to get tire impressions, but the drive is so flooded, we might not get them. It will be Tuesday before we have the report back on the paint from Rosco's car. I'm hoping our other two agents make it and can tell us something."
Enos looked at the old shag carpet and the muddy footprints that covered its worn fibers. "There were at least three of them. That's a big hikin' boot. Ya' got any idea what's so important about Phil?"
"Nope. There are no criminal records on him, no living relatives, nothing. It's like he didn't exist prior to July. We'll keep looking until we find something." Chuck pushed open a door and stepped into Phil's room. "This is why I called you."
Enos looked up at the wall as his chest tightened. When the discomfort grabbed his attention, he realized he was holding his breath.
"Th-that's th' Sheriff's."
Rosco's bloodied uniform shirt had been hammered on the wall near the ceiling with a bundle of papers. Enos was unable to move. The next few seconds would determine if he could go on living, or be sentenced to a life possibly separated from Jenny. He didn't think he could survive it.
Chuck gestured to a chair. "We're waiting for forensics, but go take a look."
"Y-yes sir. Enos stepped around the cot and climbed on the chair as bile swirled in his gut. "That's a lot of blood…if Sheriff Rosco…" he couldn't finish the hopeless thought, emotionally unprepared to face the consequences of Rosco's murder on top of the others.
Pulling a pen from his pocket, he lifted the sheets of paper one by one. As he read the note, the anxiety transitioned to a familiar fear. Beth's gift to him of the O'Connell Legacy was once again the demand for Rosco's life and Jenny's freedom. The last time he was in this position, he almost lost Jenny and Daisy. Only divine intervention in the form of a hunch had saved their lives.
The name Preston Abernathy was on the contract, no doubt from Abernathy Minerals. An entire section addressed the mineral rights and a note was simple and to the point. The exchange would take place tomorrow at noon on Hickory Point. He wanted the signed contract and in return, Monroe would give him the sheriff.
Red flags instantly went up. Monroe didn't keep his word last time. Enos had no reason to believe him and Monroe would know that, so what was he doing? This was all wrong. Something tapped away at his intuition, like a finger on his shoulder.
"Nothin' makes sense. Monroe ain't never kept his end of th' bargain and he never leaves survivors." Enos sighed and stepped down, turning the pen end over end as he looked at the shirt. Chuck talked to Jenkins this morning…
"Why did they wait until mornin'?" Enos muttered his thoughts aloud.
"The shooters?"
"Yeah." Enos replied. "For them to find th' safehouse, they must have followed Jenkins and Latimer last night, but ya' talked to them two hours ago. Was there anybody th' shooters could have followed here this mornin'?"
"No." Chuck crinkled his forehead. "Their replacements weren't scheduled to arrive until 7:30."
"So how did they find th' house if they didn't follow somebody? What about Travis?"
"Travis is on leave. Simmons sent him home. He doesn't have access to that information unless someone told him. But even if Phil turned on him, shooting four agents is extreme, even for Travis."
"Chuck, this case is a ding dang mess! I reckon we better focus on findin' Rosco before we run outta time. Monroe ain't gonna give him up. Is there any information on th' mill?"
"Not yet. We've checked two this morning, we're looking but I'm short on manpower because of the shooting. I had Agent Simmons' secretary fax a list of all the grist mills near Cedar Creek." Chuck snapped his fingers. "Baker! Strate needs that list of mills. Where is it?"
"Right here, sir." Baker pulled the fax out of his clipboard and handed it to Enos with a guilty look.
Enos glanced down at Baker's tie before the man left the room. The priceless heirloom wasn't there, but he didn't trust any of the men that had been in his home yesterday. He turned his back to the forensics team and reviewed the list.
"Wait a minute, this mill ain't nowhere near Cedar Creek. This one is on Blackjack Creek, this one's on th' Chattahoochee, these are all th' mills in Finchburg County. We ain't got time to check all these! We're gonna have to map it out first!"
"Dang it." Chuck swore then continued. "I'm not surprised she made a mistake. Everyone at our office is real shook up, but Monica was devastated over Latimer and asked for time off. They dated a few months ago."
Enos looked at the list then stepped back on the chair to review the note.
"Possum on a gumbush." Enos whispered. He was careful not to draw attention to himself as he stepped down.
"What is it?"
"Shh," Enos nervously glanced over his shoulder. "Have ya' told anybody at th' FBI office about Darcy?"
Chuck moved closer and lowered his voice. "No. Not yet. I was going to tell Simmons this morning, but with the shooting it slipped my mind."
"What about his secretary? Did ya' tell his secretary? Did ya' tell them 'bout Jenny?!"
"No!" he whispered urgently. "Enos, I didn't tell anybody about Jenny, or Darcy! What are you getting at?"
Enos took his arm and moved him away from the others. "Don't tell th' office nothin' until we get Rosco out safe. Look at this." Enos's pen shook as he pointed to certain letters on the list. "See how the small 'y' don't have a tail on it and th' small 'e' is messed up? Th' same typewriter was used to make this list and type that note. Agent Simmons secretary could be leakin' information. Did she know where th' safehouse was located?"
"Monica? No way," he shook his head. "She's been with the agency for years."
"Here? Was she always in Atlanta?"
"No." Chuck replied. "She's moved around between Atlanta and Central City, but she came here from Albany about a year and a half ago."
"B-b-but that's..." Enos gulped and his heart began racing so fast he could barely contain himself. They had to be careful. If they were overheard, everything would unravel. "The…the other safehouse, eighteen months ago, it was in-"
"BURLINGTON?!" Chuck gasped in shock. "Halfway between the Canadian boarder and the Albany office!? The Albany office lost six agents! That's the same safehouse where-"
"Cunningham killed Ian MacFarland's partner," they said together.
"That's where Monroe's threats originated against th' MacFarland siblings." Enos was overwhelmed by the connection.
Chuck heaved a sigh, "She may be the key to bringing down the whole organization! We got to get Coltrane and Bridgette out of there quick!"
"We can't tell nobody, Chuck. If we do it's gonna tip them off! Monroe always has a backup plan, always!"
"Then…I don't know who to trust!" Chuck pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to think things through. "Okay, this is what we do. Let's keep searching for the mill, but we won't tell anybody about our lead on Darcy. For all I know Simmons is on the take, too. We need to get back to the station and work out a plan for tonight. We're going to be hard pressed to find people we trust. How am I going to put Monica under surveillance?"
"Let's talk to Jaxon." With a heavy sigh, Enos thought of something they missed. Jenny was safe, he hoped, but there was another now at risk. "I think ya' need to send Becky someplace safe. Just as a precaution. Don't take no chances."
"Oh good Lord, Becky." Chuck rubbed his temples. "Yeah, I know a good place."
Enos hung his head and thought about Jenny. With all the sadness and death around him, just the sound of her voice would give him a little boost of courage. He had so many more people in harms way and still had to keep Daisy out of this, unless Drake had been successful.
A camera flash lit the room as the forensics team worked behind him. As Sheriff, he could do a lot, but he was going to take one more step to make sure Daisy stayed as far away from this case as possible.
"Chuck? I need to ask a favor or two before I go. It's about Daisy."
It was 8:30 AM when Blake took a seat behind his mahogany desk. He leaned back against the rich leather and smiled like a satisfied tomcat when he thought of all the money being tallied in the soft count room. Business was good…so good that he was about to bring in another floor manager at the request of his pit boss. Travis was sending him a candidate this evening, some local crop-duster.
His plan to oust Monroe was well underway. There had been a couple of hiccups; Phil's was the biggest. He never should have allowed Monica's brother to get involved with the business. But at least he was acting under a well-protected alias. Monroe had no idea that Phil was really Preston Abernathy. Things were well under control.
The telephone rang. She was right on schedule.
"Hello, Monica. Did everything go well?"
"Jimmy. I thought we had an agreement! Vic has my brother in the trunk. The TRUNK! The barbarian tracked mud all over my Persian rug!"
"Now, Monica. Of course, we have an agreement. I'll have your carpets cleaned and take it out of his salary, dear. Did you do what I asked?"
"Yes. The list of grist mills I faxed to Ferguson only includes those currently in operation. As far as my brother, I took precautions long ago, including fingerprints. I appreciate you getting him out of the country. We're protected."
"What about you? When we overthrow Monroe, I want you safely tucked away, love. I will need my eyes inside the FBI."
"Everything will be fine. I've done this a long time, Jimmy. I'm safe. Agent Simmons doesn't suspect a thing. He thinks I'm so upset over Latimer that I'm visiting an old college friend. No one is expecting to hear from me."
"And the mineral rights?"
"All the papers are in order and if this Neanderthal did his job they should be in the hands of the deputy soon. All he has to do is sign the ranch over to Preston. Abernathy Minerals already has the contract prepared and will handle the minerals extraction. Monroe's plan can proceed and he will suspect nothing."
"Perfect. I spoke to Travis this morning, he was upset about the safehouse, but he understood. He's ready to move forward and everything is on track. You need to say goodbye and get Preston directly to the jet. Vic will escort you. I'm terribly sorry, but you won't have much time."
"I understand. As long as he's safe that's all I care about. Thank you, Jimmy. I can't tell you how much I appreciate the risk you've taken."
"I told you I'd find a way! You're very special to me. Stay safe, don't try and contact me until this is over. May I speak with Vic a moment?"
"I will, I'll miss you." There was a pause as Vic took the phone. "Mr. Blake?"
"Do you foresee any problems?"
"No sir. Everything is fine on this end."
"Thank you. Please reunite Monica with her brother. Get them to the airport. You're our very best cleaner, Vic. Make sure she gets on the road safely. I'll make sure your loyalty is well rewarded. Come by my office when you're done. We need to discuss the next step."
"Yes sir."
Vic held the receiver as the line went dead. The next step…
He watched Monica Abernathy-Deboire pace back and forth shooting hateful looks his way while he feigned a conversation with Blake. She was an uppity thing and had been far too pampered in her southern plantation. Who did she think she was calling him a Neanderthal?
Blake was far too young and naïve. He had made a critical mistake. The most important thing in working with Wallace Monroe had been forgotten.
Monroe always had a back up plan.
He sat the receiver down on the cherry credenza.
"Oh, Ms. Abernathy," spoken in a sing-song voice. "Mr. Blake would like to tell you goodbye."