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    The Ranger
    The Ranger
    The Ranger
    Ebook339 pages4 hours

    The Ranger

    By Giacomo Giammatteo

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    About this ebook

    It’s been 20 years since the killer known as The Ranger has preyed the streets of Houston, but now he’s back, and bodies are falling.

    The Ranger is suspected of killing Tip’s mother, but he was never caught. Now it’s up to Tip to stop him, but he doesn’t want him in prison; he wants him dead.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherGiacomo Giammatteo
    Release dateNov 26, 2019
    ISBN9781949074895
    The Ranger
    Author

    Giacomo Giammatteo

    Giacomo Giammatteo lives in Texas, where he and his wife run an animal sanctuary and take care of 41 loving rescues. By day, he works as a headhunter in the medical device industry, and at night, he writes.

    Read more from Giacomo Giammatteo

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      Book preview

      The Ranger - Giacomo Giammatteo

      Chapter One

      Another Letter

      Chad Parker raced across the room to answer his phone. Not many people had his number; it made him wonder who was calling.

      He looked around before picking up the receiver. Hello? 

      Hey, Chad, it’s Bob from down where you rent your postbox. You’ve had a letter down here for almost a week. I thought you’d want to know since you don’t get much mail. 

      For me? How’s it addressed? Chad asked.

      Hang on. After a moment, the guy came back on the phone. Odd. It’s not addressed to a person; it just has written on the envelope ‘To Mr. We’ve Talked Before’ on the envelope. Then it has your box number and the rest of the address. 

      Okay, Chad said. I’ll be down to pick it up soon.

      Chad dressed, then got in the car and headed toward the postal-box service, making sure he took an indirect route as he checked for tails. He hadn’t received a letter like that in more than twenty years. 

      It has to be from him, but what does he want? 

      Thirty minutes later, he picked up the letter, took it to his car, and opened it. 

      Call this number after seven (713-555-2927). It’s important.

      Chad copied the number, then burned the letter. He finished the day, running a few errands, getting a present for his nephew, and stopping at the grocery store. At seven o’clock, he sat down in his favorite chair and dialed the number. 

      After a few rings, someone answered. It’s about damn time you called. I sent that letter almost two weeks ago. 

      The world doesn’t run on your time line, Chad said. What do you want? 

      I’ve got an assignment for you. 

      I don’t do that anymore. That line of work is long gone. 

      "You might want to rethink that. Let me tell you why. And by the way, people refer to me as JT now." 

      For the next few minutes, Chad listened to what JT had to say. When he finished, Chad said, You’ve convinced me. Send the pertinent details, and the job will be done within a week.

      Good. I think that’s best. 

      Chad packed a suitcase immediately. It was a two to three-hour drive from Waco to Houston, and he wanted to get settled in before it got too late. 

      He tossed a few changes of clothes, the toiletries he’d need, and the more important thing—the Beretta handgun he’d purchased about a year ago—into his suitcase. 

      He took the back roads from Waco all the way to Huntsville, making sure he avoided any cameras. If anything went wrong, he didn’t want any video of his comings and goings. 

      Once he got to Huntsville, he found an inexpensive motel and checked in under a false name. It was an ID he’d used for years, and he’d made sure he kept it active with a good credit record.

      In the morning, Chad drove about twenty miles to a McDonalds, ate breakfast, then continued his drive to Houston. As he crossed the city limits, he called JT. 

      Hello? 

      I’m on my way, Chad said. I’m fifteen miles north of downtown. 

      I’ll meet you for coffee at the Starbucks on Westheimer, near Voss. Park in the back. 

      I’ll be there in half an hour. 

      What are you driving? 

      You’ll recognize me, or I’ll recognize you. 

      Chad pulled into the coffee-shop parking lot and took a space near the back. There was only one other car parked there. A few minutes later, JT pulled alongside him, rolled down his window, and handed Chad an envelope. 

      I think this is what you’ll need to get started. 

      Fifty? Chad asked. 

      JT shook his head. "That’s not the deal, and it never was. You get twenty-five up front and the rest upon completion. Satisfactory completion." 

      And who do I see for the rest? 

      Same as always: I’ll have it wired to your bank. If that doesn’t work anymore, I can see about meeting you and doing cash. Your choice. 

      Chad shook his head. The wire will be fine. I’ll call you when it’s done. In the meantime, if we need to meet, we can make arrangements, but not here. I don’t like meeting in the same place. 

      JT nodded. I remember. I’ll wait for your call. 

      Chapter Two

      Just Another Day

      The man walked out of his house and to his car. Chad waited for him to get a few blocks ahead, then followed him, making sure to keep far enough back so he didn’t suspect a tail.

      The man drove on the freeway for a few miles, then exited and went to a restaurant, the one he seemed to frequent for breakfast every day. Chad parked as the man ate and chatted with other customers. He documented all his activities and how long he took to complete them. After the man left, Chad followed him.

      For the rest of the day, Chad tailed the man, writing down everything he did. He repeated this procedure for three days, and at the end of the third, he decided: the restaurant would be the place.

      For two more days, Chad followed his target, ensuring the routine stayed the same. When he returned to the motel, he called JT on an untraceable cell. You’re still good to go? 

      You haven’t heard otherwise, have you?

      Just checking, Chad said. It’ll be done tomorrow. 

      Good. Call me afterward.

      Chad woke up, drank his coffee, then headed toward the car. It was only a fifteen-minute drive to the restaurant, so if he left now, he’d have plenty of time. Besides, he didn’t expect much variation in the man’s routine; he had proven to be a creature of habit as were most people. Still, Chad needed to follow procedure and make certain that he knew the man’s habits to a T. One mistake and the job could be compromised. And that was not an option. The man he worked for tolerated fewer mistakes than Chad did. 

      Chad waited fifteen minutes before the man pulled into the parking lot. As always, he parked on the side, where the bushes were thickest.

      He got out of his car, entered the restaurant, and took almost half an hour eating breakfast. Afterward, he walked out, got into his car, and drove away. Chad checked his watch and recorded the time. Same as yesterday. 

      For two more days, Chad observed him, and every morning was the same, even down to parking in the same space. Tomorrow’s the day.

      Chad left a few minutes early the next morning and parked across the street from the restaurant. Before long, the man showed up and followed his same pattern. As the man parked his car, Chad drove into the lot and parked a few spaces away.

      Chad got out of his car, walked forward a few steps, then hollered. Hey, mister. You know that back tire’s almost flat. 

      The guy flung his door open. What? Goddamn. He looked to the tire on his back rim. You talking about this one? It looks fine to me. 

      "Actually, I’m talking about this one, Chad said and pointed to a gun he held in his hand. No need to talk, and don’t try to signal anyone. Just get back in the car." 

      I don’t know what you want, but I don’t have much money, the man said. 

      Just get in, Chad said, then walked to the passenger door and got in as well. Keep both hands on the steering wheel, and please don’t do anything stupid.

      I got maybe seventy bucks, the man said. You can have it. 

      Thanks anyway, but I don’t need it. I’ll be sure to send your widow a few thousand to help her get through her grief. 

      What are you talking about? Maybe you don’t know who I am, the man said. 

      "I know exactly who you are, Chad said. That’s the whole problem; you’re looking into things you shouldn’t be." Chad held up a towel to use as a temporary shield, pointed the gun, and pulled the trigger twice, letting the towel absorb most of the splatter. The man slumped onto the steering wheel. 

      The gun had been silenced, so most of the noise was muffled, and no one had been close enough to hear what little noise it did make. Chad reached up with a gloved hand and pushed the man into an upright position. He watched as a little blood gurgled from his throat and trickled onto his chest. He placed something in the man’s lap, then searched his jacket pocket, removed a cell phone, then opened the door and stepped out. 

      That should stir up more than a few things, he thought, then drove away. 

      Chapter Three

      Another Dead Lawyer

      The cleaning crew finished vacuuming another office and moved their equipment down the hall. Only two floors left and they’d be done with this building. After the office next door, they’d be done for the night.

      I take this one, Manuel said as he opened the door to room 610.

      Inside, a man sat at his desk working on a computer. Excuse me, señor. You want me should clean?

      The man brushed his hand in the air. Yes, yes, and hurry up. I don’t like the noise.

      Si, señor. I hurry.

      Manuel pushed the vacuum across the carpet and behind the man’s desk. He waited until the man was completely focused on the computer, then he pulled out a garrote from his back pocket and slipped it around the man’s neck. It was a professional garrote, complete with handles to ensure a good grip. Manuel crossed his hands and pulled tightly, the wires digging into the man’s neck and choking the life out of him in less than a minute.

      The man slumped onto his desk, no longer breathing. Manuel straightened him in his chair, then wheeled both man and chair into a storage closet. He finished vacuuming, locked the door, then joined the rest of the cleaning crew as they completed their night’s work.

      At seven o’clock the next morning, a young blonde used her key to open the office door. Mr. Jasper. Mr. Jasper?

      When she received no answer, she turned on the lights and started a pot of coffee, sure Mr. Jasper would be in momentarily.

      When Jasper hadn’t showed after an hour, she got his phone number from a Rolodex on her desk (she was one of the few who still used Rolodexes) and dialed his home number. A woman answered.

      Hello? May I help you?

      Mrs. Jasper, this is Jan at the office. I was calling to see if everything was okay because Mr. Jasper isn’t in yet, and he’s usually here before me.

      Not in yet? Oh, dear, something must be wrong. He never came home last night. I assumed he was working; he does that sometimes.

      "Yes, I know. Maybe he ran to get some coffee. I was late getting here today, and you know how Mr. Jasper is about his coffee. I’ll check with the parking garage and get back to you."

      Yes, please do. I’m a little concerned now.

      Jan checked with the garage attendant. Mr. Jasper’s car was still in its space, and the attendant said he hadn’t moved it since he got to work yesterday.

      Worried now, Jan checked the bathroom, then returned to the office and began opening doors. The storage closet was the second door she opened, and when she did, Mr. Jasper’s body fell to the floor.

      She screamed and raced for the phone, calling security to come at once. As she waited for security to arrive, she phoned Mrs. Jasper. Oh my God. Mrs. Jasper, I found him in the closet. He’s not breathing.

      What? I’ll be right down. Did you call an ambulance?

      I called security. I’ll call an ambulance now.

      The office door opened, and a guard walked in as Jan hung up from calling 9-1-1. What’s wrong, Jan?

      Thank God you’re here, Bob. It’s Mr. Jasper. I found him in the closet. He’s dead.

      Bob rushed over and felt for a pulse or heartbeat but found neither. Did you call his wife?

      Jan nodded. I called her, and I called an ambulance too. What could have happened? I just found him in there. He fell out when I opened the door.

      Did you call the cops?

      Oh God, I forgot. I’ll do it now.

      Tell them he’s dead for sure so they know to send a homicide team.

      I will, Jan said. I can’t believe this happened? Who would do this?

      Coop walked into the coffee room, a stern look on her face. Who’s up? We’ve got a body.

      Gino raised his hand. That’d be me and Ribs, but you can give it to somebody else if you want.

      Not a chance, she said, and smiled while handing a slip of paper to Gino. Here’s the address. Some lawyer down off Fondren.

      No rush if it’s just a lawyer, Ribs said.

      I’ll ignore that remark—like I do all of yours, Coop said. And by the way, tell your group admin to expect some visitors. Word came down from headquarters that all first-grade detectives are getting new computers.

      Tip cleared his throat. Guess that leaves you out, Ribs.

      Eat shit, Denton. You barely know how to use a computer.

      I know, but while you’re trying to find out who killed that lawyer, I’ll be learning the intricacies of my new machine.

      Connie smiled. Intricacies? Aren’t we getting fancy.

      Ribs tossed his empty cup into the garbage. Asshole, he said, then grabbed Gino by the elbow. Come on, cuz. Let’s find us a killer.

      At 9:00 a.m., a team of IT techs showed up with the new computers. The lead tech approached Cindy’s desk. You want to show me where these go?

      If you install one for me, I will.

      The tech smiled and leaned over her desk. He lowered his voice and said, You want a new computer?

      I’d love one, but I’m not a first-grade detective.

      Well, this must be your lucky day. It just so happens—according to this list—that I have an extra computer. Somebody must have counted wrong when they listed the detectives.

      Cindy laughed. I’d love one, but I can’t.

      You can if you go to lunch with me. I can justify it by saying you serve all the detectives, so you need one. Besides, your boss is getting one.

      Makes sense, Cindy said. Do you like Mexican food?

      He laughed. Love it. Let me install the computer for . . .. He looked at his list. . . . G. Cataldi and T. Denton, and then I’ll be free, at least for a few hours.

      Gino pressed the elevator button for the sixth floor. Remember, Ribs, no derogatory remarks about lawyers.

      Derogatory? Damn, cuz, you’re getting fancy on me too. You and Tip been doing crosswords or something?

      A computerized voice announced, Sixth floor, and Gino and Ribs stepped off the elevator when the door opened.

      A small crowd had gathered in the hall outside room 610, but a guard kept them at bay. Gino showed his badge as he approached. Gino Cataldi. This is my partner, Detective Delgado. I presume this is the right place.

      The guard cocked his head to the left, a gesture indicating it was. In there, he said. I made sure nobody got inside other than the person who found the body.

      And who would that be? Ribs asked.

      Her name’s Jan. She’s in there now.

      Gino and Ribs walked in and found Jan sitting on the sofa. You found the body? Ribs asked.

      She nodded. I’m Mr. Jasper’s assistant—or I was.

      Why don’t you tell us what happened. Go slowly and try to recall everything in order.

      She nodded again. I came in about seven o’clock and opened the office door.

      Was it locked? Gino asked.

      Yes. It’s always locked. Mr. Jasper often worked late, but he always locked the door.

      Okay, go on. Sorry to interrupt.

      I opened the door, but I didn’t see Mr. Jasper, which was unusual. He’s normally in before I get here. I called out for him several times, but when he didn’t answer, I assumed he was either late or ran out for coffee or something. After about an hour, I called his wife. She said he never came home.

      Did he do that often? Ribs asked. Work all night, I mean.

      Sometimes, but I wouldn’t say it was often. Jan wiped her cheek underneath her eyes with a handkerchief, then continued. Anyway, I checked with the parking attendant, then I checked the bathroom, and when I didn’t find him, I began opening all the doors. When I opened the door to the storage closet, his body fell out. She cried. Oh, my God, it almost fell on me. I had to jump out of the way.

      Ribs patted her on the shoulder. It’s all right, ma’am. Get hold of yourself, then tell us what happened next.

      I called Bob from security, and he came up right away. Oh, and I called 9-1-1.

      Okay, that’s good for now, ma’am. We’re going to have a look at the body, but we may have more questions, okay?

      Of course, she said.

      What about his wife? Gino asked.

      I told her what happened just before I called the ambulance. Oh, yeah—I forgot to tell you I called them.

      No problem, Gino said. Is Mrs. Jasper here?

      Jan shook her head. She hasn’t gotten here yet, but they live pretty far away.

      Okay, fine. If you see her before we do, tell her we’d like to talk, Gino said, and then he and Ribs walked to where Jasper’s body lay on the floor.

      Ribs knelt next to the body. Look at the neck, he said. I’m willing to bet a pro did that. You don’t see too many strangulations; in fact, outside the academy showing us what it looks like, this is only the second one I’ve seen.

      Gino leaned closer and stared. I won’t take any part of that bet, Ribs. We’ll wait for Ben, but I’m guessing you’re right. Now we need to find out who wanted him dead, and why.

      Chapter Four

      A New Case

      Tip drove down I-45 toward the station, but his mind was elsewhere. He usually had Connie in the car with him, but she had a doctor’s appointment, so she drove her own car into work today.

      He felt agitated, but he didn’t know why. Things were going well at work, he and Elena were getting along fine, and his dogs were both healthy; besides that, he had a new computer to play with. He should be ecstatic, but he wasn’t.

      Maybe it was like Elena said, and he needed a case to focus on for him to be happy. He hoped not, because that didn’t bode well for retirement.

      Maybe he’d retire and open up a detective agency. That would keep him busy. That’s a long way off, though.

      He pondered that option for a while, and before he knew it, he was pulling into the parking lot at the station.

      He turned left on the second aisle and beeped his horn when he got close to Julie.

      Son of a bitch! She jumped and spun around. Damn it, Tip. I almost dropped my briefcase.

      Sorry, darlin’. I didn’t mean to scare you.

      "Somehow I think that’s exactly what you meant to do. She walked away, shaking her head and mumbling, I should have known it was you."

      Tip parked and walked into the station. There was a note on his desk when he got there.

      See me right away,

      Captain Cooper

      Tip walked to the captain’s office, greeting Cindy as he turned the corner. Morning, darlin’. How’s Gladys today?

      I’d tread carefully if I were you, Tip. Something’s got her worked up.

      Tip laughed. Something’s always got her worked up, he said, then opened the door and walked in. Hey, Gladys. Fine morning, isn’t it? He took a seat as he said it.

      Not so fine a morning for Mauri Santos. She tossed a folder toward Tip. By the way, where’s your better half?

      You mean Elena or Connie?

      Either one. If I ask for your better half, it sure as shit isn’t you.

      Elena’s on her way to Dallas—again—and Connie had to go to the doctor. Tip glanced at the folder Coop had tossed him. And what’s wrong with Mauri? I know him.

      Doctor? Anything serious with Connie?

      I don’t think so. She mentioned getting a mammogram but not because they suspected anything. It’s more of a routine checkup. And are you gonna tell me what’s wrong with Mauri?

      Tip pulled out a cigar and put it in his mouth.

      What are you doing, Denton? You don’t smoke.

      I know. I just carry it and pretend I’m gonna smoke to piss people off. Works, doesn’t it?

      Coop lowered her head and shook it.

      Spit it out, Coop. What’s going on with Mauri Santos?

      Mauri was killed this morning. He was found sitting behind the steering wheel of his car in the Denny’s parking lot on Wilcrest.

      Tip sat up and leaned toward Coop’s desk. Mauri’s dead?

      Coop nodded.

      The Denny’s restaurant just north of Westheimer?

      That’s it, Denton.

      When did they find him? Tip asked.

      Less than a half hour ago, so get your ass moving. I’ll call Connie and tell her to meet you there.

      Tip hurried to his car, turned on

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