CHAPTER 1
"The Nightmare Begins"
Jason Shaw's head snapped off the pillow as he strained to listen. Heglanced quickly at his bedside clock. The glowing digital numbersshowed 4:16 a.m., casting a green shadow across the wall. Concentrating,he tried to focus. Had he heard something?
He felt rested but a little distraught at what had awakened him a fullhour before the buzzing alarm was scheduled to erupt. Still straining tofocus, he could hear nothing unusual from inside or outside the house, yetthere was something. He could feel it, deep down, nagging, stirring, likea stomach full of bad food.
Stretching first then swinging his legs over the side, he let his toeskneed the soft carpet next to the bed. The cobwebs of sleep began todisappear, and he could hear the soft sounds of rain hitting the backbedroom window. Still puzzled by his early arousal, he wondered if it werea dream that startled him out of a sound slumber. He could not recallanything specific, but what he did not know was that this would be thefirst day of the rest of his life.
His third life would be where someone was trying to kill him.
His first life was twenty one years in the Marine Corps. His second wasten years as a police officer, and his third, starting that day, would proveto be the biggest nightmare of all.
Satisfied, at least for the time being, there was no imminent threat,he slipped back under the covers, clasped his hands behind his head, andstared at the dark ceiling. Listening to his wife Bonnie's gentle breathing,he made a concerted effort to drift back to sleep, but the nagging sensationwould not let that happen. Forty-five minutes later he was headed for thebathroom and a quick shower. Maybe that would make him feel more atease.
The hot shower helped a little, so after shaving, Jason headed downstairsto feed their two dogs and munch on a breakfast bar while waiting forthe coffee to perk. Since he was up early, he decided to put in some extratime at the gym.
The workouts were something he did daily, or at least tried to doon a daily basis. There were occasions when his schedule did not permitenough time, and then there was the age factor. At fifty-three, he was stillin better shape than most men half his age, but he wasn't eighteen anylonger either.
Grabbing a bottle of cold water from the refrigerator, he glanced up asBonnie walked into the kitchen rubbing her eyes.
You're up early, she commented, running her fingers through her longbrown hair and reaching for the coffee.
"So are you," he answered. "Since I couldn't sleep, guess I'll hit thegym early."
"Busy day," she asked?
"Not bad," he answered. "DA's office wants me to testify as an expertin a drug case, but that's not until this afternoon. Maybe we can go outfor Mexican tonight."
"Sounds good," she said adding a little cream to her cup, then, "Seeyou later, she called after him before taking a sip of the hot liquid. Becareful."
Jason grabbed his workout bag and headed for the door. It was Monday,December 7, 2009. Sixty-eight years since the Japanese sneak attack onPearl Harbor, and the day the attacks against Jason Shaw would begin.This day would change everything, not only for him, but for his entirefamily. As if some ominous omen, it was raining outside, and he was onlya few steps away from the beginning of this new nightmare.
Jason stepped onto the front porch and tugged at the brim of his wornbaseball cap. It was still early, still dark, and still raining, although insteadof a steady downpour it was now only a soft drizzle. Habit made him reachback and check the door handle. If he had learned anything after his yearsin law enforcement, it was to always lock the house.
He glanced around, trying to decide whether to take the Ford truckin the driveway or his Lexus parked on the street when his eyes focusedon the black board with nails lying next to the driver's door. What the hell?He thought.
Moving closer he noticed it was a homemade punji board. Shawthought to himself, crude but effective, if someone stepped or fell on it.Ignoring the rain as it increased intensity; he began checking the othervehicles. First throwing his workout bag on the front porch, Jason shookhis head as he moved from his son Justin's car, to his Lexus, and finallythe black unmarked police unit.
Four vehicles, four punji boards, then the trip rope and broom handleby the Crown Vic. Traps so obvious only a blind or completely intoxicatedperson would have fallen for the clumsy ruse. Back on the front porch,Jason snatched his duffel bag, unlocked the door and quickly walked backinside.
Just inside the door, he yelled, "Hey Bonnie! Grab a jacket and comeoutside. I want you to see this."
"What is it," she answered? "I'm getting dressed."
"Hurry up, and bring your camera. You won't freeking believe this."
Jason hurried into the kitchen to see if his coffee was still warm. It was,and he downed it in one swallow.
Bonnie quickly finished dressing, pulled her camera from the dresserdrawer, slipped on a rain jacket, and joined her husband by the front door.He wasn't smiling.
She looked up, gave him a mock punch in the stomach, and said, "Thisbetter be good."
CHAPTER 2
"Viet Nam Style Boobie Traps"
Jason Shaw was a detective for the Huntsville, Police Department.After retiring as a Master Sergeant and former drill instructor in theMarine Corps, he changed his focus to law enforcement. That was nineyears ago.
Huntsville, California is a medium size town of about sixty-threethousand souls, fifty miles west of Pax Valley, and ninety miles north ofLos Angeles. Not the sort of place you would suspect as a breeding groundfor crime. However, Huntsville sits on the fringes of an area housingmembers of several large motorcycle gangs, some local street gangs, andis still close enough to the Mexican border and Los Angeles to support adrug trade.
No city, regardless of size, is immune from drugs, violence, orprostitution. The crimes are the same as in the big cities, only the facesand the frequency change.
Jason's first reaction was that the punji boards and trip rope were somesick prank by a few of the neighborhood juveniles, but the extra attentiongiven the police suggested otherwise.
As Bonnie walked around snapping pictures, she was also thinkingdifferently.
"Jason, I think you better call the station and get someone down here.We shouldn't touch anything."
She didn't say it, but her husband was a police officer, recently reassignedfrom the narcotics and vice unit, and it would not be a surprise if someonewere after him. He had put a lot of people behind bars.
The rain was slacking up again, and Jason opened his cell phone tocall the Watch Commander, Sergeant Ralph Barnes. The conversation wasbrief, but sufficient information was given before hitting the END button.Sticking the phone in his back pocket, Jason moved to his black, unmarkedunit, opened the trunk, and removed a large, metal flashlight. Jason knewit was time to give each of their vehicles a thorough check. Anyone boldenough to set four punji boards out would not necessarily leave everythingelse untouched.
Sergeant Barnes arrived just as the rain stopped. With him wereCorporal John Pickens and two other officers. Jason was just finishingwith his unmarked police unit. Barnes looked slowly around as the otherofficers began to gather the evidence.
"Who did you piss off, Jason," he asked?
Jason shook his head. "Still seems like it might have been someneighborhood kids, but then I have sent a lot of people to prison."
He knew there were some members of a white power gang in the area.They were anti-police, and this could have been an initiation exercise.
Corporal Pickens leaned down and picked up a shiny steel ball in thedriveway. "Look what I found," then he touched a dimple on the metalgarage door.
Searching through the grass, he found another ball bearing andmatching dent in the door. Turning toward Jason, he yelled, "Did youhear any noises last night?"
Shaw shook his head. "Not really, but something did cause me to wakeup before the alarm.'
He looked at his wife who softly said, "No," and shrugged hershoulders.
One of the other officers stood in front of the kitchen window, hisfinger pointing. "Check this out."
They arrived to find a third ball bearing had pierced the outer glasspane and was lodged in the lower corner.
Jason's finger touched the round hole.
"Looks like whoever set those punji boards tried to wake me so I mightrun outside and step on one of those traps."
"Pretty sloppy," Pickens added.
Everyone nodded in agreement.
Detective Alex Trainor was on his way to work when he heard theradio call and decided to drive by the Shaw house to check things out. Afew slivers of daylight were beginning to sift through the heavy cloud cover,but it still did not appear the rain was ready to quit for the day.
He lowered the driver's window and quickly took in the scene. "HeyJason! Who did you piss off the Girl Scouts?"
"Not funny, Alex," he called toward the moving car, then shook hismiddle finger at Trainor. Trainor was an old Marine buddy and Shawknew he had his back.
Jason and Bonnie helped as they gathered the evidence and loadedeverything into the department's Ford Ranger pickup.
Sergeant Barnes rubbed his hands together and glanced up at thethreatening sky. "We'll get this stuff back to the station and see what wecan come up with."
Jason frowned and wiped his hands on his sweat pants.
"Not sure we're going to find anything, what with this weather andall, but I'll do some checking around the neighborhood. Maybe someonesaw or heard something."
As the other officers gave the area a third walk through, Barnes pulledJason aside.
"Watch your back, Jason. This may just be some prank, but someoneput a lot of time and effort into building those punji boards. The executionmay have been sloppy and amateurish, but if it wasn't a prank, then there'ssomeone out there who wants to hurt you."
Jason nodded and put his big hand on the Sergeant's shoulder.
"Thanks, Ralph. I'm off today anyway, so I'll stick close to home....after I nose around some."
Back inside, Jason found his son, Justin standing by the frontwindow.
"What's going on Dad," he asked?
Jason and Bonnie filled him in as best they could, then Bonnie wentinto the kitchen to make Katelyn's breakfast.
"What do you think," Jason asked his son?
"Beats me," he said with a shrug, "but based on what you found, itsounds like someone's got a beef with you."
Justin implied, "Think it could be a prank by some of the kids aroundhere? You remember Derek and Sara Palmer that used to live down thestreet?" Jason turned toward his son and said, "Yeah, I busted Derek in arollin stolen he had some speed on him. All he got was some probation."Justin raised his voice slightly and said, "Well Dad word on the street isthey are trying to join a white power gang." Jason looked at his son, raisinghis eyebrows and said, "Oh yeah, thanks for the heads up."
Jason shook his head and shrugged his shoulders again saying, "I guessanything's possible, but it sure seems like a lot of trouble for just some kid'sprank."
Justin glanced at his watch and said, "Man, I need to shower and get towork. Let me know if you find out anything else Dad." Justin disappearedup the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Jason watched until he disappeared, then moved to where he couldsee his wife in the kitchen. Katelyn sat at the small table in her PJ's. As helistened to more rain hitting the front window, Jason Shaw felt somethingtug at his heart. It was a deep concern for his family. He wasn't thinkingof himself, but how this incident might affect his wife, his son, and theirdaughter. They were the three most important people in Jason's world.
He pushed his gym bag over in the corner with his foot.
He was not going anywhere. Not until Katelyn was safe at school, andJustin was safe at work. Then maybe he would go to the gym.
This was day one.
CHAPTER 3
"Same Old Faces"
A month prior to the punji board incident, Jason had been reassignedfrom narcotics and vice to the Huntsville Gang Task Force Unit. Theirheadquarters was two blocks south of the Huntsville Police Departmentbuilding.
The evidence collected from Jason's home had been thoroughly testedand analyzed, and other than the materials involved, there were no clues orleads developed. Someone had spent considerable time filing barbs on thepunji nails, and they were coated with oil, fecal matter and ground glass.The odd part was their placement in such obvious locations.
There were numerous discussions concerning who the suspectsmight be, but here again no firm conclusions. While assigned to vice andnarcotics, Jason had been responsible for numerous arrests. He sat at hisnew desk in his new location, and made a mental list of everyone he hadput behind bars during the prior twelve month period. If the punji boardincident was not local neighborhood thugs, then perhaps someone on thislist was involved.
Anything was possible, and he began to write some names on theyellow pad next to his telephone. After an hour of writing names down,Jason call records and had them pull a copy of the hundreds of people hehad arrested. Jason copied every name down on the legal so notes could beplaced by each name. Jason paused and stared at the name Stella Chang.He traced it with his index finger and smiled. Stella had served time forselling methamphetamine and was off parole when he heard she was backselling again. Jason put the word out to the patrol guys to keep watch forher. Stella drove a fancy white Mercedes and was an expert at hiding herdope and her money in unique locations. Stella would cruise the liquorstore parking lots, looking for a flag down, a head nod, anything to indicatea potential drug transaction. Stella was good at the only thing she knewhow to do, sell meth.
One of the patrol officers another Marine buddy Shaw knew from hisdays in the Corps saw her run a stop sign one night and pulled her over.It took Officer Preston a while, but after a very thorough search, he found$4,000.00 hidden inside the engine's air cleaner compartment. It was thelast place he looked, and almost didn't bother to go under the hood.
Jason was at the station when they brought Stella in, and he knew shehad the dope hidden somewhere on her person.
Jason pulled Officer Preston aside, very quietly he asked, "You find anydope or anything to indicate dope sales?" Preston shook his head from sideto side, indicating no, just the money. Preston looked at Jason softly said,"Maybe she sold it all, that's why she had all the cash?"
Jason knew where the dope was. He got permission to do a strip searchfrom the Watch Commander and found a female officer to assist.
Jason leaned over and whispered into the officer's ear. "I bet she's gotthe dope hidden in her personal safe."
Officer Stater wrinkled her brow and gave him a funny look.
"Personal safe," Jason repeated. "You know her vay-jay-jay. That's whereshe hid it last time I brought her in."
Stater gave a big smile and moved into the holding cell where shepinned Chang against the back wall and made her take off her pants. Sureenough, a large bag of dope fell on to the floor, and that's when the fightwas on. Stater saw the plastic baggie and kicked it under the cell doorbefore pinning Chang on the floor. Jason heard the commotion and rushedover to retrieve what was eighteen small bindles of meth, speed.
Shaw smiled again as he added another name to his growing list. StellaChang lost her $4,000.00 to asset forfeiture and went to prison for fourteenyears for selling speed from her personal safe.
That term would become famous at the Huntsville Station from thatday forward. Jason's fellow officers would laugh and call it a "Jasonism."
The days passed, and Jason continued to check in on his familyconstantly, almost to the point of becoming annoying. His new assignmentto the Gang Task Force kept him busy getting acclimated. Familiarizationwith new partners and a different routine takes a special talent. Worst of allit took Jason's street time away from him. He found himself sitting behinda desk, writing reports, documenting field interview cards studying gangpictures. Something Jason knew he had to quickly get used to. But Jasonwas happy for the new challenge, he knew something no one else knew.Landlords, apartment managers, business owners, and hundreds of citizensstill had his cell number. Those people were exactly the ones who madehim a successful "narc" officer.
