Moon Underfoot (23 page)

“Then watch for me.”

“Tam, we’re five hours from the coast. Nobody knows you up here in the boondocks,” she pleaded.

Tam recognized her naïveté—a dangerous, usually fatal, trait in his line of work, but one of her attractive qualities.

“Look, baby, do me this favor…go on inside, and when you see everything’s okay, text me and I’ll come in. Okay?”

Alexa looked him in the eyes, saw concern, and then sighed deeply. “Okay. I’ll text you.”

She grabbed her Louis Vuitton purse and opened her door before the driver could get out. She stood there in a tiny, tight, stylish dress and cowboy boots. She was going to attract a lot of attention. She slammed the car door and then headed to the hotel entrance.

“What ya thinkin’, boss?” the driver asked, looking in the rearview mirror.

“I don’t know. Just being cautious,” he said confidently. “I don’t really give a shit about meeting these guys anyway. It’s all just to make her happy.”

The task force quickly zeroed in on Alexa and knew Tam was still in the car.

Into his lapel mic, the lead investigator said, “Once she’s in the room, keep her busy! If she’s acting too suspicious, make sure she doesn’t call him. Unit Two, prepare to block the driveway; they may get spooked and drive off. He can’t leave here. I don’t need her without him. We want Tam. But I don’t want his bodyguard making this violent. Let him drive off. Copy?”

“Unit Two. Roger that.”

“Unit Three. Prepare to block the rear of the vehicle, in case he reverses.”

“Unit Three. Affirmative. We got his ass-end covered.”

All of the law enforcement officers were concerned that if the takedown happened outside, there would be civilians caught in the middle. They shut down the elevators, and several plainclothes officers were stationed at each floor to block anyone from coming down the stairs. An officer posing as a maintenance worker also secured the first-floor passageway to guest rooms. The hotel was in lockdown. The only people milling about had hidden badges and firearms.

Alexa strolled into the lobby, looking like she had just stepped out of a Texas fashion magazine targeting the rich, size-zero demographic. The music drew her to the main room as planned, except she wasn’t dragging Tam along. The officers’ tensions were high.

Tam eyed his drug truck across the parking lot, which was idling just as instructed. He and his driver scanned faces for signs of nervousness and body shapes for bulges in clothing along waists and ankles. Due to the cold, however, most folks were wearing bulky jackets. Tam noted that no other vehicles had pulled up behind them to either check in or attend the meet and greet.

As Alexa approached the room, a lady who appeared to be the hostess welcomed her and asked to see her invitation while checking for her name on the list. The music and noise coming from the room increased Alexa’s anxiousness. She was visibly
relieved when the woman read aloud her name and motioned to a man inside to allow her entry.

Alexa smiled and said thank you as she strutted through the door of the dark room. Everyone wore official backstage badges around their necks, and Alexa immediately wanted one. There weren’t as many people as she expected. She glanced around and thought she recognized one of the band members, but, upon taking a closer look, she determined that he wasn’t. She knew the Rascal Flatts guys; she’d seen them in concert several times.

“Excuse me,” she asked a staff member, “when will the band be here?”

“They’re almost ready. They’ll be on their way real soon,” he replied with a broad smile.

Alexa was extremely excited that the meet and greet was much more intimate than she had expected and quickly pulled out her phone and texted Tam.

The nervous undercover team watched, prepared to grab her at any second. But since Alexa was obviously excited about being there and not demonstrating any suspicious behavior, they held their ground and maintained the charade.

She quickly thumbed: “Hurry up. I’ll meet you at the door ☺.”

Tam’s phone beeped the receipt of the message. He read it and grunted.

“Wadda ya want me to do, boss?”

“I’m going in…park close. Check on the truck.”

Tam allowed his driver to open his door. As Tam stood, they both suspiciously looked around. Tam adjusted his coat collar and stepped toward the hotel. The motion-sensitive doors opened, and country music spilled out. Tam sighed, started across the lobby, and then stopped. Either paranoia or a sixth sense had him on edge. He stood very vulnerable in the atrium of the hotel, and, upon seeing a happy Alexa at the end of the hall, he finally moved forward.

Halfway down the hallway, somebody asked if he knew the score of the Ole Miss game. When he turned to the voice, all hell broke loose. Four officers immediately had weapons drawn.

“Hands in the air! Now!” the lead officer screamed.

Officers flooded the area. Tam began cursing in Vietnamese and was coiled like a snake ready to strike. His head was cocked, and he was defiantly ignoring everyone’s instructions, weighing his options.

“Put your freakin’ hands in the air or your brains are gonna be on that wall!”

When he slowly began raising his hands, an officer tackled him from his blind side. Four officers pulled each limb out and began a group frisk of his body, uncovering two weapons.

Had the driver lingered ten more seconds, he would have seen what had happened to Tam. Once Tam was inside, out of sight, the driver pulled away, hoping to grab a bite to eat. As he drove, a Tupelo officer in an unmarked car contemplated following him but knew that the already slim crew needed manpower to secure the location. He watched the Mercedes and jotted down the tag number.

Alexa heard the commotion out in the hall, and when she turned to go look, a female officer twisted her thin arm behind her as she pushed Alexa into a wall.

“Oh shit!” Alexa screamed at the top of her lungs as she fought hard, cursing nonstop. A burly male state trooper wearing a staff jacket jumped in to assist.

Law enforcement had finally apprehended the notorious Tam Nguyen. Every person was amped up on adrenaline. Each officer double-checked gear, weapons, handcuffs, and procedures. One officer Mirandized Tam while another videoed everything for evidence and to establish that protocols were properly followed. A few high fives were exchanged. When the two lead drug-force officers made eye contact, they both knew they had done it—finally. After two years pursuing Tam, they had him in custody.
With the mound of evidence they had built through the years, he wasn’t going to see the outside of prison for a long time. A huge sense of relief washed over them.

Out in the parking lot, a pickup truck casually drove off as law enforcement vehicles from several state and federal agencies poured onto the hotel property.

A
S JAKE AND
crew pulled into the line for concert parking, they could see blue lights flashing all around the Hilton Garden Inn. Jake and Morgan wondered aloud about what could possibly be happening. The spectacle stalled traffic to a crawl as everybody slowed to rubberneck. Katy and her buddy didn’t seem to notice because they were busy texting their friends and probably each other.

During the drive north from West Point, Jake had contemplated everything that R.C. had explained to him and shared most of it with Morgan. He had held back the part about Moon Pie living just across the river. He knew that would freak her out completely.

The BancorpSouth Arena was packed with country-music fans from all walks of life. The Crosbys’ seats were to the side of the main stage. Jake and Morgan enjoyed watching Katy and her girlfriend dance and sing. Once the concert had started, Jake and Morgan momentarily forgot all of their problems and thoroughly enjoyed the show. Morgan sang along, looking Jake in the eyes at just the right times. It was just what they needed.

Levi and his date sat lower in the arena than he preferred, but her company caused him to forget the cost of the seats. On one
of several trips to buy cold beer, he recognized Jake Crosby. Levi had seen his picture on numerous occasions and had been with Moon Pie on several drive-bys of Jake’s office. He was positive it was Crosby and texted Moon Pie to tell him the situation.

Moon Pie, however, was as drunk as Cooter Brown, as his momma used to say, and pissed off at the weather. Ole Miss was finally ahead of LSU, which made him somewhat excited, but it was raining too hard to go shinin’. Deer just wouldn’t be moving in such bad weather. It didn’t matter that he had already killed six before the season opened; he hadn’t gotten one that day, and it was eating at him.

When Moon Pie received the text, he laughed out loud and thought hard about what he could do. He strongly considered trashing the Crosbys’ house, but he knew firsthand that it was under surveillance and had an alarm system. Ever since he had been spotted in their backyard, the Old Waverly community had really tightened up their security. Killing their dog was an option that he strongly considered until he opened the front door of the trailer to check the weather. He decided to stay put and drink another beer.

“How?” Levi texted back.

Levi nodded at the next text from Moon Pie and smiled at the thought of impressing his half brother. He also wanted to get back to his hot date. He had priorities. Following Moon Pie’s instructions, he borrowed a pen from a security officer. He wrote a simple message on a napkin, read it several times, and then decided to rewrite it. He handed back the pen, shook his head, acknowledging the meanness of the note, and carefully folded the paper and slid it into the pocket of his down vest as he hurried back to his date.

“What took you so long?” she yelled as she continued to dance.

“Long lines,” he responded.

Levi eyed Jake, who stood straight while everyone around him was dancing or swaying to the music, but he was clearly having a good time.

After about twenty minutes, Levi checked the current radar on his iPhone and saw a band of rain covering Tupelo. Anticipating the end of the concert, he bent down to his date, and in an attempt to sell an early exit he said, “Let’s beat the crowd. It’s raining now, and it’ll be crazy.”

“Okay,” she replied, following him toward the stairs.

When they got there, Levi allowed her to lead. As they approached the row Jake Crosby was on, he paused, letting his date to turn down the tunnel and disappear. Jake and his wife were facing away from him, watching the stage. Levi pulled out the folded napkin and grabbed the shoulder of the man on the end of the row.

“Excuse me, would you pass this note to my buddy down there?” he hollered as he pointed at Jake. The guy took it and nodded his understanding. Levi patted him on the back, hopped down two steps, and disappeared. His date was standing there waiting, hands on hips. He put his arm around her and apologized, saying that he had seen an old friend.

Jake Crosby jumped when his shoulder was tapped. He turned and took the note from a stranger’s outstretched hand, trying to understand what was going on.

“Your friend said to give this to you,” the man yelled and then walked off.

Confused, Jake yelled, “Thanks,” as he slowly unfolded the napkin. It read, “Your wife looks good tonight. But she looks so much better through the bathroom window.”

Jake quickly wheeled around and frantically grabbed the stranger. “Who gave you this?”

“I don’t know. He said he was your buddy,” the guy responded and pointed down the tunnel. “He went down there.”

“Jake? Jake? What is it?” Morgan asked as she watched her husband looking worriedly into a sea of unfamiliar faces.

T
HE OLD GUYS
sat inside Walter’s recently rented minivan, the windshield wipers keeping rhythm with a Neil Diamond song playing on the radio. No one had said anything for several minutes. The tension was thick. They all stared at the dark front of the Gold Mine. During the chorus of “Sweet Caroline,” Bernard leaned to one side and farted loudly.

“Dammit, Bernard!” Walter said as he rolled his window down.

“Sorry. Dinner made me gassy.”

“We don’t wanna hear about it…or smell it,” Sebastian chimed in.