cop, Travis whipped his truck in and out of the traffic until he'd reached a position where there was only one car length between him and Maddie.
He wanted to swing into a lane alongside of her and see who else was in the car, but traffic had slowed to a crawl as they approached Hollywood. Finally, the car between them moved over a lane. He edged the boxy grill of his vehicle inches from the rear bumper of the vehicle Maddie drove. Surely she'd be annoyed at his tall pick-up truck following too close. As traffic moved forward, Travis hesitated just long enough so if Maddie looked in her rear-view mirror they'd lock gazes and hopefully he'd see a sign of recognition. Maybe, once she recognized him and his truck, she'd call him and ask him what was going on. There wasn't a lot of talk going on between Maddie and the man, but Travis noted the passenger sat at a slight angle towards her, which seemed unnatural.
Finally, Maddie glanced in her rearview mirror, but there was no sign of awareness. Her gaze immediately returned to the traffic in front of her. Travis continued to watch for an opening where he could swing into a lane next to her. He needed to see what was going on in the car.
"Screw this," he muttered. He flipped on his blinker, rolled down his window and held out his arm to alert the driver in the next lane he was coming over. "After me, you come first," he said, although there was no way the driver he'd just cut off could hear him.
Maddie was now two car lengths ahead of him, but Travis knew he'd eventually be able to catch up to her. Now that he was in the lane parallel to hers, he watched the driver side mirror hoping she'd see him. Inching along, he'd gained ground to where he was about one car length from the silver Crown Vic. Up ahead, he saw the reason for the traffic jam. Not uncommon for the L.A. freeways, two cars had bashed into one another and one of them was overturned in his lane. The other disabled vehicle was perpendicular across the lane Maddie traveled in. "Shit!" he said, banging his hand on the steering wheel. "These stupid people in Los Angeles couldn't drive the bumper cars at Disneyland." Growling with frustration, he again activated his blinker, this time disclosing his intention to move to the right.
The turn indicator on Maddie's silver sedan was also on, indicating she too had seen the accident and was moving over. Other drivers seemed more amenable to letting the 'plain-wrap' detective vehicle move over a lane than a high-carriage pick-up truck. Before Travis knew it, Maddie's car had slipped several lanes over and was moving slowly but steadily out of his line of vision.
Travis forced his way across three lanes of traffic and hoped he'd be able to catch up with Maddie and her strange passenger.
TIFFANY – 100
Tiffany's heartbeat accelerated with the possibility that she and Brenda would be able to make their escape. Much of it depended on their client and his willingness to help them. While the group approached the hotel room, Big M gave both girls a stern look of warning before they entered.
The client was a very good-looking black man. He genuinely seemed glad to see them.
"Hi ladies. Come on in." He extended his arm to usher them in. No sooner had they cleared the threshold, than he offered a quick, "Thanks a lot fellas. They're in good hands," and then he closed and locked the hotel room door.
Tiffany quickly took in the small pie-shaped room, then turned her attention to the client. He seemed to have a kind face, but under the circumstances, you could never tell. Suddenly, he lifted his finger to his lips as a sign to be quiet. Then he pantomimed toward the door that Drejohn and Big M might be listening at the door.
"Come on over here girls. I've ordered some Kristal champagne. I'm Cut Man. What are your names?" he said pulling them deeper into the room, again placing his finger against his lips.
Excitement filled Brenda's face as she grinned and took a deep breath, ready to rejoice. The client grabbed her and placed his hand over her mouth. Tiffany watched as Brenda's joy turned to fear and her friend began to struggle.
She didn't know what was going on, but she didn't think Cut Man was going to hurt them.
"I'm a cop," the man whispered. "Stop struggling."
Suddenly, there were screaming shouts from the hallway.
"Get down!" Cut Man yelled, throwing Brenda to the floor beside the bed and then reaching out and grabbing Tiffany and pulling her down to the same location. He positioned himself at the side of the bed over the girls, and retrieved a gun from an ankle holster, pointing the firearm toward the door.
From the hallway, there were numerous yells, "Drop the gun! Drop the gun!" Then loud pops that Tiffany knew were gunfire.
On the floor, Brenda started wailing, "Oh my God! Oh my God!." Tiffany ran her hand over Brenda's hair, trying to comfort her friend. She was scared too.
After at least ten shots, there was nothing but silence. Their rescuer didn't relax, he didn't flinch. He held his position, training his gun on the door. There were some commands given in the hallway, and the sounds of rapid movement. Then a voice called out, "Cutter! We've got a Code Four out here. Two suspects down and gone to meet their maker."
Only then did the man return the gun to the holster on his leg and stand, turning his attention to the girls. "Are you both okay? I'm Detective Cutter from the Los Angeles Police Department."
Tiffany climbed to her feet, let out a big breath, and extended her hand. "I'm Tiffany Truesdale. Thank you so much, detective." Then she started to cry.
Brenda also got to her feet, her face streaked with mascara tears. She threw her arms around the detective. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," she sobbed.
The detective put his arms around both of them. "I'm so glad we got you back." He released them. "We've arranged to have some ambulances standby so we can get you checked out at the hospital. I'm going to send you downstairs with some uniformed officers who will ride to the hospital with you. I'll meet you there."
"Can't you take us?" Brenda asked, gripping tightly to the detective's arm.
"I promise I won't be long." Just then there was a soft knock on the door. The detective went over and opened the door. Four uniformed police officers entered the room. "Take these girls to the USC Med Center. I'll be there shortly."
As Tiffany was led from the room, she saw the detective dial a number on his phone with intensity.
"Come on, Maddie, pick up the damn phone."
SECTION ELEVEN (Chapters 101 – 108)
TRAVIS – 101
Finally! Traffic opened up to a whopping twenty-five miles an hour as Travis made his way down the hill, past Universal City, and toward the San Fernando Valley. Scanning all five lanes in front of him, he sought the right-angled lines of the Crown Victoria sedan that was transporting his wife and some unfamiliar male to some unknown location.
He approached an interchange where several freeways met. If Maddie went east, she'd be heading toward Griffith Park. If she travelled west, she'd be in the heart of the San Fernando Valley. He fought his way over to a middle lane so if he caught a glimpse of her silver, plain-wrap, detective car, he'd be in a position to follow.
Shit, where's her car? To Travis, it seemed every other car was some shade of grey or silver. There! Ahead of him by about a half mile, he spotted the sedan containing his wife. She was taking the transition road to the Ventura Freeway, which would lead her to the many suburbs of Los Angeles dubbed 'the Valley'.
He was able to follow her path and was gaining on her, but traffic was still too heavy to catch up to her. He considered if he should even let her know he was following her. The whole situation was weird. She'd called him to meet her at the Temple Street Towers, but just as he arrived, Maddie took off with some stranger in her detective ride. In the excitement of her case, had she forgotten she'd asked him to meet her?
Then a thought he'd considered months ago when their marriage was almost non-existent, entered his mind. Could Maddie be having an affair? Sure, their sex life had suffered since her attack, but if she wouldn't have sex with him, would she feel comfortable in the arms of another man?
"That's just crazy think
ing," he said aloud to himself. But he dropped back further from the detective vehicle and started using surveillance tactics he'd use if he were following a suspect. He might be nuts to think his wife would cheat on him, but he sure as hell was going to find out what was going on.
PILAR – 102
The mayor of Los Angeles tried to calm her nerves as she made her way to Ventura Boulevard and the 'no-tell motel' where she was to meet Zippy Sorriano.
There's really nothing else you can do. You have to kill him. If you don't, you'll lose your opportunity for the White House.
Pilar Luna! You're talking about murder here. Are you crazy?
What other choice do you have? If Zippy gets busted, he'll work out a deal for himself while hanging you out to dry. Now, figure out how you're going to do it.
As she drove, Pilar calmed down as a workable plan formulated in her mind. She'd get control of Zippy the same way she got control of most 'problematic' men. She'd use sex.
As a kid, Pilar had learned how powerful sex could be. One time, when Zippy was fourteen and she was eight, the kids in the neighborhood were playing hide-and-go-seek in an abandoned house along State Street. Zippy and Pilar were hiding together in a closet. He had his pants down around his ankles and had just taken Pilar's head in his hands, when Pilar's older brother, Basilio, almost ripped the closet
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