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Jackson tossed and turned, replaying everything he knew about this case like it was a movie in his head. A movie that didn’t make sense. So far they’d found no other drugs, no intel about any shipments, and other than seemingly erratic behavior—which could easily be explained by stress rather than drug use—no obvious signs that Diaz was using.
Diaz’s legitimate businesses of laundromats and warehouses he rented to other businesses all checked out. The laundromats were a pure cash business, but they had a steady flow of customers.
The part of the case that was most intriguing now was the bodies in the barrels. Jackson had come onto this case as part of the narcotics team, but he was starting to wonder if the key to taking down Diaz was solving the murders, which were likely cold cases that had been abandoned long ago.
But the one he was most interested in was Olivia King.
He turned again, staring into the darkness, but he couldn’t shut down his mind. He looked at his alarm clock and decided to call Will—it wasn’t too late.
Will answered almost immediately. “I was just about to call you.”
“Is there an update?” Jackson asked, sitting up quickly.
“Of sorts,” Will said. “Max is probably going to call you in a few minutes once he verifies, but I just learned something interesting: Dominic and Diaz Smith are both directors of a shell company called Craven Enterprises. Max is trying to confirm the assets of this company, but we think it’s the warehouses Diaz has been using. Not only are they in contact, but it also seems they’re in business together.”
That was interesting indeed. “What kind of business, is the next question.”
“We didn’t get that far, but hopefully Max will call soon with further details,” Will said.
Jackson nodded. It was an interesting lead, but he needed something concrete. He couldn’t put Diaz or his brother behind bars for being directors of a shell company that owned warehouses. “You’ve been working this case for a long time. Do you ever feel like you’re going in circles? We know Diaz is the biggest supplier in the Midwest, and yet we can’t put him behind bars. He’s too careful, too cunning. Do you ever lose faith? Ever wonder if all the sacrifices you’ve made for this case, all the risks you’ve taken, are worth it?” Jackson asked, voicing his own worries.
Will gave a slight whistle. “Jackson, I ask myself that every morning when look in the mirror, brushing my teeth. But I remind myself of a sermon I heard years ago that has stuck with me, and it renews my faith—faith in this case, and faith in my life in general. At the beginning of the book of Genesis, it tells how God created everything. It says:The evening and the morning were the first day. But that seems backward to us, right? It should be:The morning and the evening were the first day,because we think of a new day as when the sun comes up. But, no, God starts the day in the evening—in the dark. When the minute hand of the clock ticks over midnight, it's dark and everything looks the same. But change has happened; it’s a new day.”
Will took a breath, then continued, “I don’t want to preach at you, because if I know one thing, it’s that I’m not destined to be a preacher.” He chuckled. “But, moving from darkness to light is symbolic of how God works in our lives. He promises us that all things are working for our good—even when we can’t see it, even when nothing looks different. So we believe, we stand in faith, and we pray, even when nothing looks different and nothing is changing. Even when we’re in the darkness, which we’re surely in right now with this case,” Will said. “But the breakthrough is on the horizon; it’s just a matter of time before the sun rises and everything looks different. So keep praying and keep your faith, Jackson. In the morning, whenever morning comes, you’ll be glad you stayed in faith—you’ll know it was all worth it.”
Jackson grinned. “I think you’re wrong; you might be destined to be a preacher.”
Will laughed. “Pastor Will kind of has a nice ring to it.” He laughed harder. “Seriously, though, we will get Diaz and put him behind bars. We won’t stop the drug trade in the Midwest, but we can slow it down. That’s enough for me—that’s the legacy I’m going to leave behind when I die a wrinkly, old man.”
Jackson smiled, praying he would be around to see that day.
A beep in his ear indicated he had another call. “Thanks for the chat, Will. I have another call coming through. I’ll see you in the morning,” he said. “Stay safe.”
“Always,” Will said, sounding like he was smiling.
Jackson hung up and answered Max’s call. “Please tell me you have fantastic news for me.”
“Define fantastic,” Max said, sounding amused. “I do have somethinginteresting.”
Jackson raised his eyebrows. “I’m listening.”
“I’ve been working on the entities that own the warehouses we know Diaz uses. We’ve identified sixteen warehouses spread across eleven shell companies. However, I just discovered the warehouse the barrels were found in—the warehouse where Olivia King’s body was stored—is owned solely by a company whose registered director is Dominic Smith. The other warehouses are owned by companies withbothDominic and Diaz registered as directors. Craven Enterprises holds a majority of them.”
Jackson raised an eyebrow. “I might be grasping at straws here, but you said you thought Dominic and Olivia were in a relationship. Yet her body was stored—and hidden—in the only warehouse that is owned by Dominic. Do you think that’s a coincidence? I’m starting to wonder if Dominic didn’t know her body was there and Diaz was keeping it as leverage somehow. Maybe they’ve had a falling out in the past, or maybe Dominic is holding something over Diaz and this is his leverage. Or maybe it means nothing at all.”
“Hm. Interesting theory,” Max said. “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t rule it out. People like this normally keep something up their sleeve, and it wouldn’t be the first family to have a falling out over business—or women.”
“Thanks, Max. Find out everything you can about Craven Enterprises. I want a full list of assets,” Jackson said, then quickly added, “please.”
Max chuckled. “Leave it with me. This information isn’t that easy to get because they’re shell companies. It might take some time.”
“I understand,” Jackson said. “Thank you.”
He ended the call, pushed back his duvet, and padded toward the kitchen. It was three in the morning and too early for coffee, but that didn’t stop him. He turned on his coffee machine and stood watching it as it warmed up. It didn’t make the process any faster, but today he wasn’t in a rush.
His eyes snapped up when his outdoor motion sensors activated and the lights came on.
Jackson reached for the kitchen light switch, flicking it and casting his kitchen into darkness. His weapon was by his bed, and he ran for it.
