Dark Streets, Cold Suburbs

by Aimee Hix

  I felt Adam behind me. He began to softly coax me to adjust my stance slightly, to lean into the attack more. The first song had cycled into the next and on into the playlist. Time seemed to stall as I lost track of the order I’d memorized, minutes floating around me as I gave in to the endorphins swirling into my blood. Bob’s face morphed into other faces as I landed torso blows that would have broken ribs had Bob been real. I fell back to jabs to drop my breathing into a more manageable pattern. Adam’s words felt like they were inside my head, almost seductive, as he proffered the most effective ways to harm another human without making it permanent. It was altogether too easy to do that without good training. Too many bar fights ended in the morgue. It was scary how quickly you could land just the wrong strike and kill your opponent. Especially if you were young, stupid, and jacked up on some substance or other.

  I dropped my hands and began pulling at the fasteners on my gloves. I turned into Adam, bumping him, he’d been so close I could have leaned back into him at any point.

  “Off,” I said, panting.

  He stripped the gloves from my hands. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Can you breathe?”

  “Phone,” I yelled at Ben, in between breaths.

  The music stopped mid-downbeat and Ben tossed it to me from the audio system setup across the room.

  I barely caught the phone and it took two tries with shaking hands as I unlocked it. I pulled up the frequent contacts and found Jan in the list.

  “Fight club,” I blurted out when she answered.

  “Uh, it’s an okay movie,” she said.

  “Bob doesn’t hit back. It’s not real.” I got the words out in between breaths that weren’t calming in my excitement.

  “Are you having a stroke? Do you smell toast?”

  Of course, she was confused. I wasn’t making sense.

  “Right, the movie. But a fight club. Bored suburban teen boys. Video games. Sanitized sports. Steroids. An underground fight club.”

  “How in the hell did you come up with that?” she asked. I heard the clacking of the keys on her computer. Either she was into the idea or humoring me while she filed reports.

  “I’m at the dojo training. Adam was giving me instruction and it reminded me of a fight trainer like in boxing or MMA. Getting the maximum damage without really hurting the other person. The crowd cheering. The adrenaline and endorphins.”

  “But sanctioned fights do drug tests,” Adam said.

  I punched the speakerphone key.

  “But sanctioned fights do drug tests,” I repeated.

  “So why do steroids if not for some physical test?” Jan asked. The typing had stopped.

  “All fight sports do drug testing for competition. Football and wrestling coaches are trained in what to look for. Gym trainers too. Sure, the makers can change the chemistry, but not the results.”

  “And the results are the reason. You gotta show it off,” Adam said.

  “MMA is so popular now, Jan. They tried to start a club at school but the administration refused.” I looked at Ben. “When?”

  “Last summer. Some of the guys who were on the wrestling team.”

  It was all starting to gel in my head. I handed Adam the phone. He gave me a questioning look. I held up my finger to ask for a moment.

  “Uh, Willa says she needs a minute,” Adam said.

  “Take your time, kid.” Jan’s voice came through the speaker.

  I walked over to the front wall of windows and closed my eyes, pressing my forehead against the glass. The cold felt like I was rooting me to the building. I pressed my hands into fists over my ears.

  Some members of the wrestling team tried and failed to start an MMA club over the summer. The same time Damian started changing. He’d grown rapidly. He’d have to have known that someone would suspect the changes. The timing. But it was a big school and he’d started to change his pattern. So many kids. Thousands in that giant building. But there was one who knew him. One who’d been asking his other friends about what they knew.

  “Aja. Ben, you need to call her right now.”

  “What’s going on, Willa?” Jan asked.

  “One more sec. Adam, your classes have students from the high school, right?”

  “A few,” he said.

  “I need you to call them, ask them about this MMA club. If Ben knows about it then the kids who would be interested know. I need the details of who was involved in trying to start it.”

  “Willa! Can I get in a word on my murder investigation, please?”

  “Jan, he can’t tell them this is anything to do with a murder investigation otherwise their parents will get involved and lawyers—”

  “The coroner says the x-rays of Damian’s body show many old, healing injuries. He was involved in something that had him getting beaten up pretty regularly.”

  “We’re on to something.”

  “We’re definitely on to something. Great work, kid,” Jan said.

  It was an amazing feeling, putting the piece into the puzzle. To pull the string and have the knot unravel that first little bit.

  “She’s not answering, Will. Mom says someone came to pick her up, that she wouldn’t be home for dinner but in time for curfew.”

  The feeling of success died instantly replaced with fear, acid sour in my stomach.

  “Who? Her parents aren’t supposed to be in town yet.”

  She wasn’t answering her phone and she’d been poking around about Damian at school.

  “Gotta go, Jan. I will call you back soon.”

  I clicked the disconnect button and took the phone out of Adam’s hand. I called Aja from my phone, thinking she might answer for me if she wanted to ignore Ben. They’d fallen into a very easy sibling relationship, close but annoying each other easily. She’d be more likely to answer for me. I let it ring until her voicemail should have picked up and didn’t.

  I texted her. And waited. A minute passed. Then two. Then five. The fear deepened.

  I pulled up the tracker app on my phone. I plugged in the number of her cell phone as Adam and Ben watched over my shoulder.

  “Are you tracking the GPS on her phone?” Ben asked, his voice cracking. He was trying not to show me he was afraid but it was all there in his face. Adam put this arm around Ben and pulled him into his side. They both towered over me as I waited for the dot to appear.

  The steady blinking reassured me. Her phone might have been off or damaged but the GPS still worked. I pushed out the screen’s view with my fingers to zoom into her location. The app could give me exact location but I knew instantly where she was based on the surroundings.

  I raced over to my bag and grabbed my keys.

  “Call Jan and tell her to get me a black-and-white to Aja’s house.” I rattled off the number as I hit the push bar to the door at a run.

  “I’m coming,” Adam said, practically running over me to get to the truck.

  “Keep dialing. I want the pressure on.” The trip was interminably long as I tried to focus on driving safely, cutting it closer on yellow lights than was legal. I didn’t have time to get pulled over only because that left me less time to get to Aja before the cops.

  “What’s the plan?” Adam asked. I could hear the phone ringing over Bluetooth.

  “If the person she went with was involved in trashing her house or killing Damian, the cops being there might escalate things. I want to beat the uniforms there and use them as backup. If this goes hostage situation, I think I’m better positioned to deal with some kid with ’roid rage.”

  “Have you done hostage negotiation?”

  “No, I’m a girl in a tank top and workout pants, Adam. I’m going to appear as threatening as a tree stump.”

  “That’s a big assumption.”

  “That’s literally the job of being a PI, man. Assuming you
can handle what the cops don’t. You think angry spouses caught cheating don’t get physical?”

  I was a block away when, finally, the phone connected.

  “Willa?” Aja’s voice was shaking. She was terrified. My fear dropped right out and rage rushed in. I had to keep my head.

  “I’m close. Are you okay?”

  “You’re coming?” She sniffled. I saw Adam clench his fists. I wasn’t the only one who needed to keep their head.

  “Less than a block.” I careened around the corner of her street, almost clipping the nosy neighbor and his yappy dog. His mouth was an O of surprise as I slammed into the driveway of Aja’s house and threw the truck into park. I was out of the truck, pushing the driver seat up and out of my way, punching the code into the gun case. I checked the magazine and made sure there was a round chambered.

  “Young woman,” the old man was shouting, running toward me.

  I jammed the weapon into the back of my waistband awkwardly—the elastic wasn’t designed for a gun—and pulled the tank top down over it.

  “Fuck off, grandpa, I do not have time for your shit,” I said as I took off for the back of the house. Aja didn’t have keys so they’d have to have gone in using the plywood-boarded up basement door.

  I heard Adam trying to soothe the neighbor as I rounded the corner of the house as fast as I could holding the gun to the small of my back. I didn’t even hesitate with my footing in the backyard even though it was unfamiliar.

  In through the opening made by the plywood having been peeled off and up the basement stairs to the foyer. I made my way more slowly and carefully up the main staircase to the second floor. I was sure they were in the attic loft, but I didn’t want to risk startling this guy. I didn’t know if he was armed. I only knew he was desperate.

  I eased down the hallway past Aja’s room, the light on, but I didn’t see anyone. I made my way up the stairs to the loft finally able to hear Aja’s voice.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I keep telling you. Damian didn’t give me anything. I hadn’t spoken to him for weeks.”

  “You have to have it. If I don’t get it for him, he’s going to kill me too.”

  I crept up the stairs as quietly as I could. I heard the kid pacing around, his footfalls heavy even on the carpet.

  “Cole, my friend can help you. Just talk to her.”

  “No. I don’t need help. I need the package.”

  I had slowly slid around the end of the stairwell wall. The faint whine of the sirens now audible in the room.

  “Are you sure I can’t just try to help you, Cole?”

  The relief on Aja’s face was a gut punch. I hadn’t gotten her out of the situation safely yet.

  Cole startled and moved toward where Aja was sitting. I watched as she pressed herself farther into the corner. The look on his face wasn’t calculating though. He was scared. He looked at her as if for help.

  I held my hand up. “Cole. It’s okay.”

  “Who are you?” He was no more than seventeen. He wasn’t as muscled at Damian had been but I could see the growth, looking out of place with his slight frame and childlike features.

  I smiled at him, forcing down the adrenaline-soaked instinct that screamed at me to rush him. “My name is Willa. I’m a friend of Aja’s. I just want to help you. I promise.”

  “You can’t,” he screamed.

  Aja put her hands over her ears and tucked her head into her knees. Good. If I had to shoot this kid I didn’t want her to see.

  “Don’t be too sure. I help people for a living.”

  “You’re a cop?” He moved toward Aja again.

  “Stop,” I said firmly. “I’m not a cop. I’m just someone who likes to help people.”

  I had been inching toward him as I spoke. I could see his face more clearly, his tears and terror. His desperation. Desperation was dangerous.

  “You said you needed a package. Do you know what’s in it? Maybe we can find a substitute.” My voice was as soothing as I’d ever made it. I needed to talk Cole down quickly. Once the cops got in the house, everything got much more complicated.

  “No. I can’t tell you.”

  “Okay. That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. We can figure out something else.”

  I began to turn my body, forcing him to turn too to keep me in view. I needed to get between him and Aja so that no matter what happened, she was shielded by my body. It was a sooner rather than later premise though.

  “You don’t understand. He killed Damian when he found out that Damian hid the package. He told us that’s what happens when you get greedy.”

  My hands up waist high, fingers spread wide, I kept moving, easing my way to position myself facing the opening of the staircase. I didn’t see that Cole was armed but I wasn’t taking the chance. In the low light as afternoon turned into evening it was too easy for an amped up cop to see something that wasn’t there.

  “Was Damian greedy, Cole?”

  I just needed to keep him talking, to trust me.

  “No. He was just scared. He wanted out. I just want out.”

  “That’s good, Cole. I want to help you get out of whatever it is too.”

  “How do I know you can help?”

  I had succeeded in swapping our positions in the room. Me in the back with Aja and Cole with his back to the room’s opening.

  “Can you trust me? Can me being Aja’s friend be enough to make you trust me?”

  I heard the commotion at the front door. Cole heard it too, twisting around to look behind him. Dammit. I was out of time.

  “Cole. Don’t be scared. That’s the cops, but we can still fix this. I can help you fix this.”

  “You can’t. No one can.”

  He turned and ran down the stairs. I chased after him, doing the exact opposite of everything I’d ever been trained to do, running toward an unknown situation, no vest, no gun drawn. I did not need this kid suiciding by cop.

  On the second-floor hall, I heard the reinforcement the locksmith had installed holding up against the donkey kick the patrol officer was utilizing. They didn’t have a battering ram so I knew they would be kicking for a while.

  “It’s fine. It’s under control. Don’t shoot,” I yelled as loudly as I could.

  It was a mistake. Cole had been going around the banister to go down the stairs and he turned to look back at me, tripping over his own feet. The curved staircase was wide and he hit the wall then bounced around wildly as he tumbled, unable to get a purchase to stop himself. The sound of him hitting the wall was awful. He’d pitched head first and had caught it on an angle.

  I pounded down the stairs after him, praying and yelling for the cops to stop.

  Cole lay on the foyer floor. His breathing was shallow. I skidded past him and grabbed the key off the table.

  “I’m opening the door. A boy is injured.”

  I opened the deadbolt and wrenched the door open. The uniforms pushed past me, guns drawn. They were both yelling.

  “Who’s in the house?”

  “Get down on the ground!”

  I dropped to my knees, hands on the back of my head. “He needs medical assistance.”

  “Where’s the perp?”

  “He’s the perp and he needs EMS, now. He fell down the stairs.”

  “Keep your hands on your head,” one of the uniforms said. I hadn’t moved anything other than my mouth but I wasn’t about to give him any excuse to get jumpy.

  The radio popped and then I heard Jan’s voice advising uniforms that a FCPD consultant was on scene.

  The taller one looked at me. “That you?”

  “Yeah, Pennington. EMS NOW!”

  The one that wasn’t trained on me called for a bus and holstered his weapon. The other guy eyed me, keeping his gun in my face, which was pretty fuck
ing rude, if you asked me.

  “Do you mind?”

  “You got ID?”

  “I do and I’m not even twitching until you take your service weapon out of my face.” I flicked my eyes over to the more relaxed of the pair. “There’s a girl upstairs, the homeowner’s daughter. She’s the one I called about. The guy on the floor is a friend from her school who got her out of her guardian’s house under a pretense and brought her here.”

  That was probably the closest facsimile of the story anybody was going to get out of either party. I felt comfortable letting it be the official account of the afternoon’s event. They could get it later when people weren’t in need of medical care. Cop number two finally lowered his weapon and I dropped my hands.

  “She been assaulted?”

  I shook my head and scooted over to Cole on my knees, taking his wrist in my hand. His pulse was faint but I felt it. “She seems okay. Scared. Cole just wanted some property that is tied up in another case I’m working with Detective Boyd.”

  I heard the ambulance wending its way through the subdivision. I stood up trying not to even jostle the kid. I was sure he’d broken his neck the second he’d taken the header into the wall.

  Uniform Tense and Scowly pulled out his cuffs and bent down. I pushed him away gently. “You can’t move him. He could have a neck injury.”

  “Protocol states—”

  “Does protocol state you paralyze a teenage boy on what could be as flimsy as a menacing charge? You wanna stake your badge and a fifty-million-dollar lawsuit against the county on it?”

  He shook his head and put the cuffs away. “He’s not going anywhere until they cart him out.”

  Tense and Scowly turned to his partner, Sedate and Laconic. “What do you want to do with the guys in the black-and-white?”

  “You brought people on the call?” I asked.

  “Nah, two guys were beefing in the yard when we got here.”

  That explained the extra time I’d had. Nothing like wasting precious time on a kidnap call by arresting neighbors fighting.