Beneath the Flames

by Gregory Lee Renz

  * * *

  Jennie waited in the foyer of Police District Five while Mitch tracked down a detective from Jamal’s case. After forty-five minutes, Mitch barged out and motioned for Jennie to follow him to the van.

  “They raided the crack-house last night. Ran three gang members in for questioning but got nothing.” Mitch started the van. “There’s no evidence of a crime at this point and they don’t have the resources to stake out the house.”

  “Now what?”

  “If anything comes up, they’ll call your cell.”

  “I can’t fucking believe this. A young girl is missing and that’s it? They’ll call if anything comes up?”

  He put the van in gear and headed to Firehouse Fifteen.

  * * *

  Nic answered the door. Mitch coughed into his hand and said, “Jen, this is Nic. Nic, this is Jen.”

  The two women measured each other.

  Nic put out her hand. “We finally meet.”

  Jennie’s hand stayed at her side. “Yes, we do.”

  Nic shrugged and said to Mitch, “Heard you’re a civilian now. Sorry to hear that.”

  “Who’s the boss today?”

  “Lt Kaminski took Laubner’s spot.” Nic turned to Jennie. “Let’s you and me have a talk while he chats with the boss.”

  Jennie scowled at Mitch. He headed to the office, leaving the two women alone.

  When he returned, the two were talking quietly and smiling.

  “Jen told me about Jasmine,” Nic said. “God, I hope you find her.” She turned back to Jennie and they hugged. “I really am sorry.”

  When they got back in the van, Mitch asked, “What the hell was that?”

  “Said she feels awful for breaking us up. Thinks I should give you another chance.”

  “And?”

  “Nic seems pretty amazing. Shame things didn’t work out.”

  Yup. A shame.

  * * *

  They spent the afternoon driving the streets and alleys of the Core, all the way from the Milwaukee River out to 27th Street. They talked with children on playgrounds and schoolyards. They stopped people on the street. Some acted concerned and others acted like these two white people were aliens.

  Stillness settled over the Core as darkness set in. Jennie called Miss Bernie’s house. “Brother Williams? Good to hear your voice. How’s Miss Bernie?—Good thing you’re there. Any news?—Sure.” Jennie handed the phone to Mitch, “Alexus wants to talk to you.”

  “Lexi, how was school today?”

  “When you bringin’ Jasmine home?”

  “Soon, Lexi, soon. I promise.”

  “Okay, then. Told Miss Bernie, I’m staying up ’til she gets home. ’Cause she my sister and I miss her. She needs to be home.”

  “I know.” Mitch choked. “Bye.” He handed the phone back to Jennie.

  He stopped the van and shouted, “Fuck this.”

  Jennie took his hand from the steering wheel, kissed it, and held it to her chest.

  He could feel her galloping heartbeat.

  “I’m dropping you off at Miss Bernie’s.”

  “Then what?”

  “I gotta find that bastard. He knows where Jasmine is. I know it.”

  “You’re not doing this alone.”

  “Jen, no.”

  Her face narrowed. “I’m coming along.”

  “Damn, you’re stubborn.”

  “Just like you.”

  “You gotta do what I say and not argue.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Chapter 64

  Mitch and Jennie hunkered down in the tall weeds across from the One-Niner’s crack house, the same spot where he shot up DeAndre’s car and almost shot Spiked Hair. He brought the rifle, telling Jennie he needed the night-scope to watch the house. They took turns watching while the other dozed.

  Jennie shook him. “Somebody came out of the house.”

  He blinked his eyes clear. “What time is it?”

  “Almost one.”

  Mitch peered through the scope. The bright September moon illuminated the street. “Holy crap. Chirelle.”

  “Chirelle?”

  “She can’t be back with him.”

  “With who?”

  “DeAndre. He killed her brother, for Christ’s sake.”

  Jennie’s mouth dropped. “People live like this?”

  “I gotta follow her.”

  “Mitch, this is getting too real. You sure?”

  “Go to the van and stay there until I get back.”

  “Not happening. If we find him, you’re calling the cops, right?”

  Chirelle headed north, walking fast through the back alleys behind 19th Street. Mitch and Jennie followed, ducking behind dilapidated garages and sheds, many scrawled with the black, scripted “19.” One-Niners.

  After following for two blocks, Mitch said, “I gotta find out what she knows. Stay back.”

  “You know what you’re doing?”

  “Not a chance.” He grimaced. “Here, keep this out of sight and stay in the shadows.” He handed her the rifle.

  He trailed Chirelle for half a block, rapidly closing the distance between them. He was almost on her when she snapped her head around, saw him, and bolted. Mitch sprinted after her. She veered into a backyard where he tackled her hard onto the grass.

  Her eyes bulged. “Get the fuck off me.”

  Mitch clamped a hand over her mouth and pinned her to the ground. She twisted and squirmed, trying to sink her teeth into his hand. Whining, guttural sounds came from deep in her throat.

  Mitch tightened the grip on her mouth and leaned his face closer. “Chirelle, Chirelle, look at me. You know who I am?”

  Her eyes softened and she stopped struggling.

  “You know I was your brother’s friend, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay, you know I’m not going to hurt you, right?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m going to pull my hand away. Please, don’t scream, okay?”

  Her eyes widened as she looked past Mitch to the alley.

  “Get the fuck off my ho.”

  Mitch sprang to his feet, spun, and looked down the barrel of his own rifle and into the coal-black eyes of DeAndre. DeAndre’s gold teeth glimmered in the silver moonlight. His face was gouged with red gashes. He nudged the gun barrel up and down. “What you planning on doing wit dis? Blow this nigger away?” He cackled.

  Spiked Hair stood beside DeAndre along with two others who were barely old enough to shave. All three had AR-15s trained on him.

  The silver moonlight clouded to a red haze through Mitch’s eyes. “What’d you do with Jennie?”

  DeAndre motioned toward a half-collapsed garage with his left hand while keeping the rifle trained on Mitch.

  Jennie stepped from the darkness with a knife pressed to her neck. Dreadlocks had her arms pinned to her back, pushing her forward.

  Jennie’s glassy eyes locked onto Mitch.

  Think.

  “DeAndre, look. We’re trying to find Jasmine. That’s all. I wouldn’t hurt Chirelle.”

  DeAndre sneered. “Don’t know nothing about that shit. All I know, you try to send me away. Should cap your white ass right here.”

  Jennie kicked Dreadlocks in the crotch and bit his wrist. He yelped and dropped the blade. She ran for Mitch. Dreadlocks snatched the knife off the ground. “No bitch gonna bite my ass.”

  “Gimme the blade,” DeAndre barked. “Not here. Don’t need to attract no nosey motherfuckers.” He pointed down the alley to a house with the second-floor lights on. “Wait ’til we get them to the warehouse.”

  “What you planning, boss?”

  Mitch stepped in front of Jennie. “Let her go. This is about you and me.”

  “You in my hood. I make the rules. Maybe I take me a taste of your white bitch.”

  Mitch fought to control the burning hatred rising in his chest.

  Think.

  Chirelle edged next to DeAndre a
nd rested her head on his chest. She leered at Mitch and Jennie with a sickly smile. That’s when he saw the white-gold necklace with a tiny gold leaf hanging around her neck.

  Mitch’s stomach turned to lead. “Where’d you get Jasmine’s necklace?”

  “That mine. DeAndre give it to me.”

  The slap echoed off the garages as Chirelle sprawled to the ground holding her cheek. DeAndre kicked her. “Shut the fuck up, you stupid ho.”

  Spiked Hair watched, expressionless. “So what we doing with them?” he asked DeAndre.

  “Juice’ll get the honky’s rat van. We take ’em out to the warehouse on 32nd and torch it with them inside. Ain’t nobody hearing or seeing nothing over there.” He sneered. “Barbecue their motherfuckin’ honky asses.”

  “Her too?” Spiked Hair said with no emotion.

  “We can’t let her go, nigger.” DeAndre nodded toward Dreadlocks. “Juice, get the van.”

  Mitch’s heart raced.

  Calm down. Focus.

  Mitch pointed at DeAndre’s face. “Jasmine do that?”

  “You one ignorant honky, lookin’ for my ass all day in my hood and think I won’t know? Well, you found me, motherfucker.” DeAndre hooted. “Now ain’t that a bitch?”

  DeAndre handed Spiked Hair the rifle. “Keep ’em out a sight in the yard. Cap ’em both if he moves. I gotta find a shitter.” He pointed at the boarded-up house behind them and handed a small flashlight to Chirelle. “C’mon, you get to hold the light.” He pushed her toward the dark house.

  Think. He faced Spiked Hair. “What did DeAndre do with Jasmine? She scratch his face?”

  “Don’t know nothin’ about that.”

  “Chirelle’s wearing Jasmine’s necklace. He has her somewhere.”

  “Don’t know nothin’ about no necklace.”

  “It’s Jasmine’s. I gave it to her. You must have seen it. Thought you guys liked her? Now you’re gonna let DeAndre do whatever he wants with her?”

  Spiked Hair’s expressionless stare showed no sign of acknowledgment.

  Don’t give up.

  “You thanked me for helping your little girl. Now you’re gonna kill me, and Jen too?” Mitch’s question was met with the same blank stare. “You told me the gang wasn’t into killing and putting young girls on the street. Said that was all DeAndre. Was that a lie?” Still no reaction. “Your Peaches is a smart girl. She loves you. This what you want for her?”

  The two juvenile gangbangers kept their rifles trained on Mitch while glimpsing at Spiked Hair.

  Spiked Hair’s eyes narrowed. “Need to shut the fuck up.”

  Without moving his lips and continuing to look at Spiked Hair, Mitch whispered to Jennie, “We can’t get in the van. When I say now, you distract them.”

  “How?” she whispered back, not moving her lips.

  “Think of something.”

  DeAndre strutted out of the darkness of the vacant house with Chirelle trudging behind. He snatched the rifle from Spiked Hair and waved it at Mitch and Jennie. “This a sweet scope. Come in handy ’round here.”

  “You got Jasmine?” Spiked Hair asked DeAndre.

  “What that fool been telling you?”

  “Chirelle’s wearing her necklace. You shouldn’t be messin’ with Jasmine.”

  “Don’t need to worry about anyone messin’ wit Jasmine.”

  “Where is she?”

  DeAndre fixed his reptilian eyes on Spiked Hair. “She gone.”

  “Gone where?”

  “Listen, nigger. That girl owe me. I carried her saggy-assed ole lady an’ her for three years. Kept them in their crib. Kept Benita’s crackhead old man high. They all knew the deal. When Jasmine form, I put her on the street. That fine young thang woulda pulled in some serious jack.” DeAndre’s mouth twisted into a hideous grimace. “Until this motherfucker fill her head with shit.”

  “Where is she?” Spiked Hair asked, his voice flat.

  C’mon tell him. The van would be here any minute.

  DeAndre tugged the front of his shirt down. His chest looked like it had been clawed by a wild animal. “See what that bitch did? Won’t ever do that again.”

  Spiked Hair glanced at the red gashes running down DeAndre’s chest. “Where is she?”

  “Said, she’s gone.”

  Spiked Hair’s face drooped. “You kill her?”

  DeAndre leveled the barrel of the rifle at Mitch’s chest. “Need to end this now.”

  The blood drained from Mitch’s face. Jennie groaned and clutched his arm.

  The lights of the van swung into the alley. Mitch heard Ralph’s words in his head, “Control your emotions. Focus.” Mitch slowed his breathing. Calmness set in. No panic, no rage, just razor-sharp focus on the devil in front of him. “Go ahead, asshole. Shoot us right here. Core’s crawling with cops. They’ll be on your ass before you get out of the alley.”

  “Fuck that.”

  “He’s right,” Spiked Hair said. “Take them out here, we all going away.”

  “Fuck it, I can wait. Van’s here.”

  The van rolled to a stop.

  Mitch whispered to Jennie, “Now.”

  She didn’t move.

  “Jen, now. Do it.”

  She shoved Mitch to the side and ripped off her shirt, glaring at DeAn­dre. “You wanted a taste of this white bitch. Here I am, fucker. Let’s see what you got.” She narrowed her eyes at DeAndre and went for her bra strap. He lowered the rifle.

  Mitch charged DeAndre. The barrel of the rifle swung back up. The rifle cracked, sending a short blue flame from the barrel. Searing pain ripped through Mitch’s side.

  The recoil of the high-powered rifle lifted the barrel enough for Mitch to duck under it, grabbing DeAndre’s arm and wedging his neck in his armpit. He yanked DeAndre’s arm down. The pop of his arm tearing out of the socket was followed by a high-pitched wail. The rifle banged to the ground. DeAndre went to his knees clutching the limp arm to his body. Mitch tossed the rifle across the yard.

  “Shoot the motherfucker,” DeAndre screamed.

  The young One-Niners on each side of Spiked Hair leveled their AR-15s at Mitch. Spiked Hair pushed the tips of both rifles down.

  Lights flashed on in three houses down the alley.

  Mitch glared at Spiked Hair. “How the fuck can you live with him killing Jasmine?” He went to Jennie, holding his side with a blood-soaked hand, hunching forward from the pain.

  Jennie screamed, “Mitch.”

  He turned as DeAndre lunged at him, his right arm hanging limp. Mitch saw the flash of the blade in DeAndre’s left hand as he slashed at Mitch’s neck. Mitch blocked it with his arm, barely feeling the sting. Before DeAndre slashed at him again, Mitch had him around the legs, lifting him high in the air. With everything he had, he slammed DeAndre to the hard asphalt with a perfect double-leg takedown, driving the back of DeAndre’s skull into the pavement. The loud crack resonated down the alley. DeAndre’s eyes rolled back in his head, leaving only the bulging, yellowish whites visible. A croaking sound belched from his gaping mouth. If the One-Niners hadn’t been standing behind him with their rifles, Mitch would have choked DeAndre off right there. He struggled to his feet. Blood spurted from the inside of Mitch’s arm. His knees buckled. He collapsed.

  Jennie ran to him. “Holy shit.” She gripped his upper arm, squeezing hard. “He got your brachial. And your side’s bleeding.”

  Mitch heard DeAndre gurgling only feet from him. He watched DeAndre’s body flop violently, foam spewing from his mouth. DeAndre stiffened. The man’s dying gasps faded. The death rattle. Hell’s waiting, asshole.

  Chirelle threw herself onto DeAndre, wailing.

  Sirens blared in the distance.

  Dreadlocks bolted from the van. He ran to Spiked Hair. “Let’s go. Just do them here.”

  “No. No more.”

  “What about DeAndre?”

  “He fucked.” Spiked Hair snatched the kicking and screaming Chirelle off DeAndre and headed up the a
lley with the others.

  “You bastards just gonna leave?” Jennie hollered at Spiked Hair’s back. “What kind of people are you?”

  Spiked Hair handed Chirelle off to Dreadlocks, then punched at his cell phone and said, “Got a fireman shot in the alley, 19th and Hadley. He’s bad. Get a amblance here, fast.”

  Halfway up the alley, they stopped. Spiked Hair trotted back to Mitch and Jennie. He looked down at Mitch and nodded, then tossed Jasmine’s necklace to Jennie. “Make sure Lexus gets that.”

  In an instant, he was gone, leaving Jennie, Mitch, and DeAndre’s limp body in the quiet, moonlit alley.

  Mitch tried to move, but his arms and legs didn’t respond.

  “Stay still, honey. They’re coming.”

  “Don’t worry. This is our run, Engine Fifteen. Med Six will be right behind them. They’re good.”

  “Mitch, you were unbelievable.”

  “Nice distraction.”

  “Yeah, you men and tits.”

  Pinpoints of light flickered in his head. “Jen, I never did stop loving you.”

  “I know. I never stopped loving you either.” She kissed his lips. He felt her warm tears on his face. Her face blurred.

  “Good,” he whispered.

  Mitch fought the darkness.

  “Mitch, you asked me to marry you once.”

  “You never answered.”

  “Offer still stand?”

  “Anybody ever tell you that you have shitty timing, Jennifer McAdams?”

  “Well?”

  “Promise to make me cinnamon rolls every morning?”

  Jennie laid her head on his chest.

  Let me see her face once more.

  Time stopped. He floated into the air, serene and at peace. He saw himself with Jennie draped over him, sobbing.

  Jen, it’s okay. I’m with little Maggie. She’s fine. Jamal and LaMont are here too. And Kyle and Mom. We’re all fine. It’s beautiful. So beautiful.

  “Goddamnit, Mitch Garner, don’t you dare die on me.” He saw her kiss his lips.