by Randall Dale
He pressed his lips and read the notice again. An internship would be perfect for Edward. Nothing exciting by a long shot, but at least the boy would get to see what police work was all about. He replaced the flyer to the envelope and slid it into the vest pocket of his jacket, deciding to deliver it directly to Edward’s apartment that afternoon.
◆◆◆
The cell phone indicated the time, four-thirty. It had been an unproductive and frustrating day for Demetrius and his co-workers. There were no new leads, nothing more to investigate and no one even remotely on the suspect list. He, Dan and Dusty had been instructed to drop everything and concentrate solely on this case, but they could only go over the case folders so much without getting frustrated. And to make matters worse, the Lieutenant was checking on their progress twice a day.
The case itself was maddening enough without the insecure administrator getting involved. Demetrius growled as he stood to retrieve his jacket from the coat rack. He needed some air. He felt the envelope in the jacket pocket and nodded. This would be a good time to visit Edward to show him the posting. He flipped pages in his pocket notebook, finally finding the page with the young man’s address.
He drove to the apartment complex with the windows in the car down. The air was cool but refreshing because he’d been cooped up all day. He pulled into the parking lot of the high-end complex, amazed at the plethora of expensive new cars. It wasn’t until then he wondered about the flashy, Mustang convertible Edward drove. Maybe an accountant for the City of Phoenix makes enough to pay for that, he decided.
He parked his five-year-old Ford Explorer close to the stairs, not bothering to lock it. Shucks, if anyone wanted to steal a car in this lot it certainly wouldn’t be his. He grinned while rambling up the stairs. The doors in this complex were painted red, blue or orange. He stood in front of an orange door with white-painted numbers. He knocked and waited patiently with the envelope in his hand.
The door opened. A dark-haired young man stood in the doorway holding a Popsicle in one hand and the door handle in the other. He didn’t speak, he simply waited.
“Is Edward home?”
“No, man. He got all pissed off when he talked to his old man in San Diego. Then he left, cussing all the way.” He waved toward the parking lot.
“Was something wrong?” Demetrius stepped back, glancing down the stairs once, then back to the boy.
“His parents are getting a divorce.” The roommate shrugged, obviously unconcerned about sharing private information.
Demetrius absently sucked air into the side of his mouth. “That’s too bad. Is that why he’s in San Diego?”
“Huh?”
“Is that why the dad’s in San Diego?”
The boy looked confused. “No. That’s where they live. His dad’s a big-time lawyer there but made Edward come to school here because that’s where he went.”
Demetrius rubbed his face. “Are we talking about Edward Mitchell from Phoenix?”
“That’s him, but he’s not from Phoenix.”
“But his dad’s an accountant with the City of Phoenix.”
“No, Dude. His dad’s a lawyer from San Diego.”
The big detective frowned as he folded his arms. His phone vibrated with a text message, interrupting the conversation. He unclipped the phone from the holster. The text was from Wanda.
“Flat tire. Edward is here and will take me to the awards thing after we get the girls.” It was signed with a heart and a smiley emoticon.
Demetrius refocused on the boy at the door, watching him lick the Popsicle from the bottom to the top. “Found him.” He waved the phone and cocked his head. Are you sure he’s from California? He said he was from Phoenix and he has Arizona plates on his car.”
“I’m sure. He bought it here last year. It’s cheaper to register here than back home so he got Arizona plates.” The roommate shrugged then closed the door.
Demetrius turned to look over the courtyard and the glistening pool, wondering why Edward would tell him he was from Phoenix if he was really from San Diego. He trudged down the stairs. Something wasn’t adding up.
His phone vibrated and quacked like a duck. It was Chalice, his daughter.
“Hi, Sis.”
“Hi, Dad. Didn’t you say mom was going to pick us up?”
“Yeah. She texted and said she had a flat so Edward is taking her. They should be there any second.”
“Okay, thanks. Bye.”
Demetrius returned to his concentration. What was he thinking about? Oh, yeah, something about a lawyer from San Diego. He’d been talking to Dan about that. When was it and what was it about?
He had no more returned the phone to its holder when the vibration and a quack distracted him again.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Demetrius. Dusty here. We got a break in the car paint thing. They were able to trace that paint to the Flat Rock assembly plant in Michigan.”
“That’s great news. What do they make there?”
“Lincoln Continentals and Ford Mustangs”
“So we’re looking for one of those in bright red?”
“Yep, but they don’t paint Continentals red so it has to be a Mustang.”
The thoughts in Demetrius’s head instantly raced at light speed. He almost dropped his phone. A red Mustang? A law office in San Diego? A dejected boy at breakfast on Monday saying his future was set and nobody could change it? And the tingling in his shoulders when he watched Edward walking on the University campus? He rubbed his temples. No way. It couldn’t be?
Then the most terrifying thought. Wanda was with him this very minute.
Chapter 26
The phone face in his hand was so blurry he could barely make out the numbers and his fingers didn’t work right. He wasn’t thinking correctly. This couldn’t be happening.
His police training came to the rescue. He took a deep breath and forced his muscles to relax. He opened the recent calls and pushed her number, praying silently she would answer. After the fourth ring he heard, “This is Wanda. Please leave a message.”
He sprinted to his car, fumbling in his pocket for the keys. With a roar, the engine came to life and the tires squealed as he left the parking lot. He had to get home. He prayed she would be there.
The six-minute drive to his house was the longest six minutes of his life. How could he have welcomed the boy into his home? Why wasn’t he more suspicious of Edward continually asking questions about the murder investigation? Why didn’t he press harder with the law office phone?”
The tires squealed as the Explorer slid to a stop behind Wanda’s car. He jumped out and ran quickly to the left, front tire. To his dismay, he saw the slash. All the way he’d been hoping it was a mistake, that he was wrong and Wanda was safe. The slashed tire proved in an instant that things were every bit as bad as they seemed.
He leaned, one hand on the car while the other covered his eyes. What now?
“Think,” he ordered himself aloud. He stood, took another breath and tried to focus. His hands were numb as he unclipped the phone and punched the redial button. Four rings, no answer but the same message. His breath caught in his throat. Where was she?
He looked at his phone, suddenly realizing it was one of the best tracking devices available. He rushed to the front door, unlocking it with practiced movement. In the bedroom, he searched for her IPad. In frustration, he realized it wasn’t where she usually kept it. He hastened to the kitchen where he found it plugged into the charger. His fingers felt fat as he fumbled to open the case. As it came to life he quickly punched in the code they shared for everything, their anniversary date. In dread he scrolled through the apps, anxiously searching for the one programmed to find her phone. He didn’t see it at first and panicked. It had to be there.
On the second pass, he saw it and punched it more forcefully than needed. He was instantly afraid he’d broken something, but the program responded. With excruciating slowness the screen came to life, becoming
more detailed as the precious seconds ticked by. Finally, the symbol on the map appeared.
He studied it, trying to get his bearings, then as it all became crystal clear, his heart felt like it had dropped from his chest. The reason the map was so difficult to read on the screen was because there were no crossroads. Her phone location was at the railroad tracks, the same location they’d found the murdered homeless man.
“Noooo!”
He bolted out the door.
The western sky showed the waning colors from the sunset and the light of day was already fading. It would be twilight soon and he was at least two minutes from the freeway then another five to the train tracks. He mashed harder on the accelerator but it was already against the floor. He ran a yellow light that turned red a fraction of a second before he entered the intersection. He unconsciously braced for a collision but no car approached. With squealing tires he turned left onto the freeway ramp. The engine screamed in protest and he honked his horn in warning as his speedometer approached a hundred miles an hour. He zipped in and out of traffic with reckless abandon, avoiding other cars by the narrowest of margins.
The freeway passed downtown and gradually turned east, he was only minutes away now, but had to slow for traffic in both eastbound lanes. At his first opportunity, he roared ahead only to slam on the brakes to take the exit. He gauged his timing at the bottom of the off ramp, darting into cross traffic without stopping. He was answered with blaring horns but paid no mind. From the left lane he turned back to the west, then immediately north onto the road leading to the tracks. In fifty feet the pavement ended and the dirt road turned west again, parallel with the tracks. He could see the red Mustang ahead. Another minute.
All four car tires locked up, skidding on the dirt road bringing the careening car to a stop as he slammed on the brakes. Without thinking, he pulled his gun while jumping onto the raised tracks. From the higher vantage point, he saw them in the lingering light. Edward stood facing him, his left hand on Wanda’s shoulder. She knelt, facing away into the scraggly mesquite tree with her hands behind.
“Don’t come any closer.” The command was loud in the remote environment. Edward lifted his right hand, showing the gun. When he was sure Demetrius had seen it, he pointed it at her head again. “Put your gun down.”
Demetrius hesitated, wondering what to do. He was only thirty feet away. He could try for a series of quick shots, hoping to disable the boy, but immediately discarded the foolhardy option. He probably could fire four or five rounds at Edward, but all it would take would be one pull on the trigger and Wanda would die. He raised his left hand while bending down to place his Glock on the crosstie, then he stood with both arms raised.
“We’ve been waiting for you, Demetrius. I knew you’d come.”
He thought instantly of the last forty-five minutes and how the final clues had miraculously crystallized. If he hadn’t gone to see the roommate? If Dusty hadn’t called? If she hadn’t texted? A shiver ran down his back. There were too many ifs.
“Edward, why are you doing this?” The strain caused his voice to be high and squeaky.
Edward cocked his head. “Because you have it too good.”
Demetrius listened to the dull, lifeless voice and knew right away the boy’s decision was already made. He wondered what he could say to keep Edward talking. That was the only way he might change his mind.
“Too good? What do you mean too good?” He took a step closer but stopped abruptly when he saw the boy flinch.
“Your family is perfect. Your kids love you and respect you. I’ve always wanted what you have.”
“You can have what we have, but this is not the answer. Put the gun down and let’s talk.”
“My parents called today. They’re getting a divorce.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. People go through that all the time. You’ll manage too. We’re here to help.” He waited for a response but got nothing. He hoped and prayed for a miracle.
“I’m going to step closer so I can see you. Is that all right?”
When no answer came he took a step across the final track onto the cinders on the side, then two more to ground level where he stopped. He could hear Wanda’s muffled sobs and he noticed she had something tied around her head and her hands were tied behind her back.
“Edward, I’m the one you’re mad at, not her. Let her go and take me.”
He could see Wanda’s back shaking from the sobs. If not for Edward holding her she would have slipped to the ground. Demetrius swallowed hard and raised his hands higher. “I’m giving up Edward. Take me. I’ll walk to you.”
Edward shook his head as though he was waking from a dream. “Stay where you are.”
Demetrius stopped in midstride, replacing his lifted foot next to the other. He could see the boy shaking and hoped the gun’s trigger would be able to withstand any inadvertent pressure. He licked his lips.
“Wanda invited you into our home, Edward. You don’t want to hurt her.”
The shaking increased. “Why couldn’t I have what you have? I wanted my parents to love me, but I was never good enough.” The boy’s voice gained strength. It was clear he was getting close to doing something, and the possibility was terrifying.
He had to keep him talking. He said the first thing to come to his mind. “Why Dr. Smallwood, Edward?”
The shaking of the boy increased as he glared at Demetrius. “Because of all the people at the college he was the one who noticed I wasn’t good enough.”
Demetrius knew from hostage training that the moment was at hand. The moment of action. He had to do something. He crouched for a lunge then watched in horrified disbelief as the boy raised the gun to his open mouth and pulled the trigger.
A thousand things went through the big detective’s thoughts. It seemed as though Edward’s movement had been in slow motion. Demetrius screamed and tried to dart forward, but was much too far away. He saw the gun, almost with a mind of its own, leap from Edward’s hand as the shot exploded. The boy instantly fell, limp and lifeless to the dirt even as the sound from the shot echoed in Demetrius’s ears.
Edward didn’t fall alone. Wanda fell also, face down in the dried grass and dirt. Demetrius was there in two jumps, kneeling beside her, lifting and cradling the love of his life, pulling her close to his chest. He was crying, the pent up emotion suddenly released, then he noticed she was unresponsive. In a rush he slipped the gag from her head. “Wanda? Wanda, are you all right?”
When there was no answer, he panicked, yelling her name and holding her tightly against him. At last she moaned and he was filled with relief, but his muscles were like jelly. He sat on the ground holding her, caressing her face while wiping the dust and dried grass from her forehead and hair. He held his breath when she opened her eyes. She looked up at him in wonder and he knew she must have fainted at the shot. He couldn’t blame her, he almost had himself.
They sat together on the dirt as neither had the strength to stand. They cried as he hugged her and held her face to his neck. He knew Edward’s body lay behind him, and at some point in time he would have to do something about it, but this time was his to hold her, to concentrate on her and her alone and let the outside world go on without them.
Time went by but he had no idea how much. A noisy, westbound freight train lumbered past, a hundred cars clackity-clacking over the rails. When it passed he helped her stand, lifting her gently because her hands were tied behind her back. He held her close as they walked to his car where he opened a toolbox in the trunk for a pair of cutters to remove the zip tie. He clipped the hard plastic and threw the vile thing to the dirt in disgust. With her arms free, she held so tightly to his neck he could barely breathe. He squeezed in return, silently praying his thanks for the reprieve.
She had not spoken the entire time. He leaned back so he could see her face in the light of the rising moon to his back. He gently wiped the tears from her cheeks then pulled her face to his neck again.
“Are yo
u okay?”
At the question, she shivered involuntarily and held her bottom lip between her teeth. He held her more closely.
Finally, she whispered, “I was so scared. Thanks for coming.”
◆◆◆
Demetrius didn’t go to work Wednesday morning. His wife needed him more than the Department did. She wouldn’t leave his side, even if he was just in another room. He was dismayed that she wouldn’t speak about the ordeal, but he understood the intense feelings associated with what she had gone through. To a degree, he had them himself.
Dan stopped by to get an additional statement for the file. Demetrius had made a statement and answered questions of the responding officers at the tracks, but as with all investigations, there were some loose ends needing clarification. Another reason for the visit was to return the gun Demetrius had left at the scene. He’d been so preoccupied with Wanda he’d forgotten he’d placed it on the tracks.
Dan sat in a chair on one side of the living room. Wanda sat next to Demetrius, holding tightly to his arm. The pair watched Dan scribbling in his notebook while the big detective recounted the events. In a moment, Demetrius stopped to pull his wife closer because she chewed her bottom lip and had started shaking again.
He held her tightly until the moment passed, then he focused on his partner. “I’ve got to hand it to Dusty for staying on top of the paint sample. That’s what made the connection. If not for that information I’d have never gone to the tracks. He would have—.” He stopped as Wanda stiffened, then changed his choice of words. “It could have turned out worse.”
Dan nodded. “He’s a good man. I’m glad the Chief let him pull off some of his other stuff to concentrate on this case.”
Demetrius sighed and nodded.
Dan leaned forward on the couch. “Speaking of the Chief, he’s called a press conference for noon today.” He looked at his watch.