a novel by Tommy Castle
It’s been some time since Tommy Castle was last seen. Not that it mattered to him. His life was now swaying palm trees and pina coladas.Unfortunately, it mattered to the Department of Justice. When someone in the Witness Protection Program vanishes without a trace, it raises questions doesn’t it?The FBI was on a cold trail searching for a hot lead. Maybe his brother knows something??
All rights reserved by Tommy Castle.
Twenty years after the trial...
Scorpions scattered as the giant black suburban worked its way across the Nevada desert, sending a mile high plume of dust in its wake. The dust hovered in the breathless Nevada desert just outside Las Vegas, then fell to the scorched earth. The only passengers were FBI Agents Montgomery and Ball.
Montgomery had been a field agent for 14 years, mostly in the southwest, and was accustomed to the heat and scorpions. He was the senior of the two.
Agent Dudley Ball was the son of a United States Senator, and was new to the field experience, with only two years in the service of the Department of Justice. Ball was still considered a rookie.
“Man, it’s hotter than Hell out here.” He said as he fiddled with the a/c vents trying to direct the cold air to his pink face.
Montgomery replied, “Don’t worry about it...this won’t take long and maybe we can get inside and cool off...maybe grab a cold beer.” as he tapped his fingers on the top of the steering wheel. He was probably lying, but wanted to calm his junior G-man. Ball was from Maryland where there were no deserts or scorpions.
In the distance, they saw a single wide trailer sitting all alone near a bluff slowly coming into focus. Oddly enough, there was a shiny new Chevrolet pickup sitting near the front steps that surely costs more than the trailer.
"Now who would do something like that?” Ball asked.
"What’s that?” Montgomery replied.
"Park a $35,000 truck by a $500 dollar trailer.”
This guy apparently.”
Ball replied, “You mean someone actually lives in that thing?”
“Think so.” Montgomery turned off the beaten path , through a rocky draw , and stopped the Suburban next to the gleaming Chevy Silverado 4x4, and took a closer look at the faded green and gray trailer. The weathered streaks streaming down the sides made it look older than it really was.
"Damn, what a piece of crap." Ball quipped.
They got out and were immediately welcomed by a scruffy old white dog, with one ear up, the other down.
Montgomery slapped the dusty paw prints off his J.C. Penney’s black slacks and pounded on the flimsy screen door.
“Yeah, what do you want?” came a man’s raspy voice from somewhere inside.
“We’re looking for Tommy Castle. Can you help us?”
The creaky door opened and a graying man about sixty peered out at them. He was tall and thin, and had a two day growth on his face. A sweaty straw hat perched at an angle over his silver hair. He could have come right out of Central Casting.
The man kicked the bottom of the screen door and held it open just a few inches to get a better look at these strangers. He looked them up and down and tipped his beer bottle back for one last swig, then belched and tossed the bottle over his shoulder. The agents heard the bottle clink against what must have been dozens more on the on the linoleum floor.
The old man had a roll your own cigarette stuck to his bottom lip, and it magically stayed there as he growled, made his brows into a V. “Now, what’s this about Tommy Castle?” His smoky breath was rank and he smelled like that wasn’t his first beer of the day.
Montgomery said, “We’re looking for him...would you be him?”