It was a beautiful gate, made from wrought iron, but he immediately assessed that it was also braced with steel, which meant it was secure as well as pretty. There were three cameras, one that was trained on the road behind him, as well as the two that were now surveilling his vehicle. Larry hadn’t been kidding, this place was pretty damn secure. If there had been a guard tower where a sniper could sit, like there had been at Laird Campbell’s place, then Drake would feel like this place was bulletproof. Ever since he’d seen the guy with the swastika, Drake had a bad feeling. He knew how often these guys ran in gangs in prison.
As he rolled down the window to press the button, he heard his sister Evie’s voice.
“Bout damn time you got here.”
“I wanted to see the old homestead and relive my glory days. Let me inside. It’s cold out here.”
“Poor little SoCal boy can’t hang with a little snow,” Evie said in a sing-song voice. He watched as the gate swung open.
Drake swore as he went through the gates and saw the house off in the distance. It was maybe a quarter mile, and it was on a small hill. He could have taken that to mean it was easily defended, but nope, this fucker was a target. The front was all glass, and it was lit up like a Christmas tree. Didn’t they know about conserving electricity?
Larry was waiting for him on at the top of the stairs.
“Well, I see Evie’s directions got you here. I told you it was remote.” He grinned.
“You’re right about that.”
“How did reconnaissance go?”
“We have at least five others that dad has recruited,” Drake said thinking about the man on the phone.
“What do you think he’s up to? Do you think it was drugs again?”
Drake thought back to the drug dealer that Frank and his dad had killed in their basement. The prosecutor had offered both men reduced sentences if they would provide evidence about the drug trade going on in the county. They’d both refused. Instead, they had said that the man had pulled a gun on them and they had shot him in self-defense. They ended up convicting them for voluntary manslaughter. It was supposed to be fifteen years, somehow Norville got out in twelve.
“Yeah,” Drake said. “I would bet anything this is drug related. Back then I had no idea that he had anything to do with drugs. God, my head was so far up my ass it was amazing I could see daylight.”
Larry clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself, Son. You were concentrating on the things that were important. I know you had a scholarship lined up, and if memory serves, you weren’t a bad student either.”
“But I should have known the shit my own father was into.”
Larry’s grip tightened. “Can it, Avery. I only knew of you because of Parker, but after you got run outta town, you can be damn sure me and a few others made it our business to know about you and your family.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, we were worried. It was actually Kirkland that started it. He fished with Carl over at the feed store. Carl’s aunt was Miss Tilda over at the Food Bank.”
Drake felt his face flush. God, he’d forgotten the ways of small towns, everyone knew everyone else’s business. Then he laughed.
“What’chya laughing at?”
“I was just thinking how small towns knew everything about everybody, but I was wrong. It’s a matter of caring. My SEAL team has their nose all up in my business too.”
“Only time someone doesn’t pry, is when they don’t give a shit.” Larry chuckled.
“Okay, so you and half the town of Jasper Creek checked out the Averys after I left for the Navy and my dad was sent to Pikeville. Then what?”
“We tried to make sure that your sisters got first pickings at the Salvation Army. Then when Trenda moved out, Carl arranged for her to get a deal on the apartment she rented over the bakery. Just little things.”
“What did you find out about my dad? Did your little group of spies ever find out if he was cooking or dealing or both?”
“Fuck Drake, there ain’t no drugs in Jasper Creek, ask our sheriff. The fact that the EMT’s have that nasal spray on hand and have revived Tommy Hayes twice last year and at least ten others from overdoses don't mean a thing.” Larry’s voice was laced with disgust.
“It’s gotten that bad?”
“Yep.”
“What is it? Meth or Heroin?”
“Mostly Meth. If you ask me, our boy Delmar is getting a cut out of the deal. Kirkland still keeps an eye on him, even though he’s now a member of the state senate.”
“He is?”
“You didn’t know?” Larry asked. “Yep. Judge Kirkland is now State Senator Kirkland. He might run for the United States Senate in a couple of years,” Larry said with pride.