will do. There is also the other problem. Varrick is scheduled to appear in court for his meth lab trial in April. If he gets slam-dunked then, weâll really be left in the cold.â
Bob slowly nodded and replied, âWell ⦠I said your affidavit was weak ⦠but maybe not impossible.â He grinned and added, âYour victim was a priest. Maybe weâll get lucky and get a Catholic judge.â
âIâd appreciate you trying. Otherwise weâve got nothing.â
âIf we do get this signed, you better pray that you do get something within the next sixty days because I guarantee you wonât get an extension otherwise.â He looked sharply at Connie and said, âAre you sure you donât want to wait and see what else you might dig up?â
Connie glanced at her cellphone and saw an incoming call from Jack. âGive me a sec,â she said apologetically to Bob.
âWeâre on him,â said Jack. âWestbound on 99 in a black pickup.â
Connie smiled and turned to Bob and said, âNo, I donât want to wait. I want this son of a bitch!â
* * *
Connie got her wiretap order signed that afternoon. She immediately called Jack who told her that Varrick simply went to a bottle recycling depot and dropped off several dozen cases of empties, along with a few boxes of liquor bottles before going to a liquor store and restocking the booze supply at Headstones.
âIf theyâve got him doing menial chores at Headstones when he is a cook for a meth lab, it is costing them money,â noted Jack. âTheyâre worried and are laying low.â
âHow long do you think theyâll keep him on ice?â
âIâm surprised he isnât back to work already,â replied Jack. âAlthough trained lab rats are valuable, theyâre not club members and are still expendable. My guess is theyâll wait a week or two to make sure there is no heat before putting him back to work. Maybe theyâre looking to rent a new place for a lab.â
âHope so. The clock is running,â added Connie ruefully.
âDid you hear the news on Faith?â
âWho?â
âGabrielâs kid ⦠cancer.â
Connie paused to let out a sigh before asking, âHow bad?â
The pause gave Jack time to feel the rage simmer through his veins â his tendons and muscles going taut. For a brief second he allowed himself to fantasize that his hands were around Varrickâs neck, choking the information out of him.
âDid you hear me?â asked Connie.
âI heard you,â sighed Jack. âItâs bad. Could be terminal but they donât know yet.â
âI really, really want to nail these guys.â
âTrust me, we will catch them. Justice will be served,â he said coldly.
Connieâs emotions were in turmoil when she hung up. She was saddened over the news about Faith, but at the same time, knowing Jackâs reputation, she believed the culprits would somehow be identified. Identified, perhaps. But with what evidence? And Jackâs definition of justice ⦠hope to God it is not Jack whom I have to testify against.
* * *
The next month dragged by without any progress. Varrick continued to do menial chores around Headstones. Occasionally other men helped him and Jack and Laura photographed any of them who were new faces. Connie showed the photos to Gabriel and Noah, but none were recognized.
Sixteen days after Faithâs cancer had been identified, she underwent surgery. Phyllis called Jack to let him know that the surgery was partially successful.
âPartially?â asked Jack.
âThey got most of it, but some wrapped around her spinal cord had to be left. The doctors are optimistic that radiation will get what they missed.â
âThink it would be okay if I paid Gabriel and her children a visit?â asked Jack.
âGive her a little more time,â said