The Line: The Complete Series

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The Line: The Complete Series Page 50

by Nikki Rose


  How did they know so much?

  “I couldn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “He made threats.”

  “Threats? What kind of threats?”

  “He threatened to burn one of my paintings every ten minutes I was late getting back.”

  “Paintings?” Detective Grant scoffed.

  “You have to understand. My paintings are everything to me. I don’t have much family around and those paintings are all I have. They are my livelihood, my memories, my diary. They are a part of me.”

  “I believe that’s enough questions for now. Ms. Moore has answered all your questions sufficiently. She has been through quite an ordeal and needs her rest,” James interjected and I was grateful he was there.

  “Certainly. We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions,” Detective Bryant spoke politely and motioned for Detective Grant to follow him out.

  James looked down at me and placed his hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Just a bit groggy still. It makes it hard to answer questions.”

  “They were probably counting on that but you did amazingly well.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem. I’m going to go for a bit and let you get some rest. Do you have any family we should call? Is there anyone who you’d want to come pick you up tomorrow when you are discharged?”

  “No. My family lives a good way off now. I can just call an uber or something.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Either me or one of the other guys will pick you up tomorrow. Call me to let me know what time they’ll be releasing you and if you need anything.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “We take care of our own.”

  Our own. They saw me as one of them. I hadn’t felt like I had a place with anyone since I left school but these men had welcomed me in and made me one of them.

  CHAPTER 19

  Mason

  Once I was processed through the prison, it was time for the one hour of yard time I’d be allotted per day. I walked out into the yard, already filled with a littering of orange jumpsuits clustered into the various cliques. Being new meant having a target on my back as the men sized me up.

  I walked the outer edge of the yard, keeping the brick wall to my back as much as possible to limit someone sneaking up on me. As I rounded the yard, keeping my eyes scanning the groups, one clique in the far side of the yard spotted me. Their eight men turned and began slowly walking toward me.

  “Sobaka. Hey, you,” the man yelling out to me was flanked on either side by a handful of men. My Russian was a little rusty but most everyone remembered that term. Dog. It was known as one of the lowest insults to give to someone. It was not a phrase to use if you were looking for a friend.

  “You’re Carlile, no?”

  “Mason.”

  “Vy politsiya, no?”

  “Police? No. I’m not police.”

  “Carlile?”

  “I’m Mason. And, you are?”

  “You are Mason Carlile?” He managed to get out through his thick Russian accent.

  “Do I know you?”

  “We have a friend in common. Petrov.”

  Shit. As the men closed in on me, I focused on keeping the wall to my back. It would give them one less advantage. Not that they would need it considering there were eight of them and only one of me. I was a good fighter but not that good. I eyed where the guards were standing when I first entered the yard but neither of them was there. The other groups were quiet and most were looking in my direction.

  “Pobey yego,” The one who was clearly the leader commanded. Beat him. I fended off the first and second blows from the two men closest to me but there was a third ready just behind them. He punched me with an upper hook to the left eye. I stumbled back into the brick wall but recovered quickly although, not quick enough.

  Another blow came in my abdomen, knocked the air from me and I instinctively doubled over. A knee rose into my midsection and I was able to block the blow partly. I struck someone’s nose, feeling the crunch under my fist. I grabbed one arm as it came at me, twisting it to bring the man in front of me. I used him as a shield, kicking another man as he approached.

  Someone struck me in my flank causing pain to radiate up my back. A rain of fists, elbows, and knees flew at me and eventually I lost my footing and fell to the ground. They kicked my ribs and stomach but I managed to curl in on myself to protect most everything vital. Finally, a whistle blew and three guards ran over to break things up.

  Two of them lifted me off the ground with very little consideration for what I was pretty sure was a broken rib. Blood dripped down my eye from a cut above my eyebrow and I spit blood from my split lip as they half dragged me to the infirmary.

  An icepack, a couple aspirin, and a few stitches later, the guard led me to my cell with little regard for the limp I was now sporting from the beating. I had hoped they would keep me in the infirmary overnight or at least in solitary while I was healing but someone was paying off the guards well. They placed me straight into gen pop.

  Once I was uncuffed again, I turned around and nodded to my new cellmate. He was a large man about my build but about six inches shorter with MC tats littering his arms.

  As much pain as I was in, I couldn’t relax. I had to think. I had to figure out a way to get out of there or at least to survive without another beating like that. I paced the cell like a caged lion at the zoo. Lion. I couldn’t help but smile as I remembered comparing myself to a lion when teasing Hana in her kitchen. I remembered those beautiful wide eyes gazing up at me as I stalked toward her. My next memory had my whole body tensing up as the vision of her collapsing onto the ground flashed in my mind.

  I hoped she was okay but I had no way of knowing. I called Chris and he contacted a good lawyer and made sure someone went to check on Hana. Hopefully they’d find a way to get word to me on her condition. I couldn't imagine something happening to her. I couldn’t believe the judge had denied bail. Even a high amount could have been done between my assets and those of my team who were willing.

  According to the judge, I was a flight risk because of my work overseas. My work that helped protect the country from attack. Funny how facts could be twisted to fit the narrative the prosecutor wanted.

  “Sit down and stop pacing the fucking floor. You’re acting like a nervous virgin on her wedding night,” my eloquent cell mate grumbled. “What are you in for anyway?”

  I stopped pacing and looked straight at him with no expression on my face, purposefully looking unphased by my own words, “blowing a guy up.”

  The look on the man’s face was priceless and I had to fight to keep a neutral expression. His eyes grew wide and I knew he was all bark and no bite. So was I, but with my answer, I had the upper hand. I didn’t bother asking him what he was in for but he decided to tell me anyway, just another sign that he was intimidated.

  “They got me for attempted murder.”

  “So, they got you for failing then,” it was a statement and not a question. In jail, it was all about making the right impression from the start.

  “Failed? Hell, no I didn’t fail. I wasn’t trying to kill the guy.”

  “Why not?” I kept my face away from him, looking off in the distance to seem less interested.

  “We got into a fight and I just lost it. I do that sometimes. Got a temper like that.”

  “That’s where you messed up then,” I spoke calmly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You let your emotions rule your actions. It's better to keep calm and think things through. Planning but not letting the other person know what you can do.”

  “Is that what you do?” I could hear the slight hesitation in his voice. The tough guy act was melting fast. I didn’t answer, only shrugged my shoulders and went back to pacing again. He never said another word to me. It was a good sign that I was able to gain my cell mate, a man most would easily be intimidated by.


  Two days passed without another incident. I managed to keep my distance from the Russians and I’d somehow managed to befriend my cellmate, Bear—yes, I swear that’s what they called him. I hadn’t resigned to staying in prison and making a place for myself there but it was nice to have someone watching my back while I tried to figure out how to get myself out of the mess, I was in.

  I held on to the hope that my team would find the lookalike and enough evidence to have me set free.

  "Carlile," the guard barked from the bars that separated us. "You have a visitor."

  They cuffed me and led me to an interview room where they usually allowed prisoners to meet with their lawyers. They sat me down, cuffing my hands to the bar attached to the table and I waited for my lawyer to arrive. When the door opened, I was surprised to see Chris enter the room. My smile dropped when he paused at the door, allowing Hana to come in ahead of him.

  She gasped when she laid eyes on me and even Chris failed at hiding his surprise and horror at seeing my injuries.

  "What the hell are you thinking bringing her here?"

  Chris looked at me then at the guard who walked out and closed the door behind him.

  "She's here to confront the man who held her captive," Chris stated calmly.

  "What?"

  "It's a technique to help victims of dramatic crimes get past their trauma."

  I waited for the guard to leave us and lowered my voice, "what part of keeping her as far away from all this as possible did you not understand?" I ground my teeth as the words shot out.

  "I made him," Hana said as she sat across from me and reached for my hands cuffed on top of the table. "I had to see you."

  "You're putting yourself in danger."

  "No, I'm not. I'll be fine. I had to make sure you're okay."

  "I'm okay. See? Now you need to get outta here."

  “What happened to you?”

  “I met a few friends of a certain Russian who isn’t too big of a fan of our team. I’m fine. It looks worse than it is but you shouldn’t be here. This is no place for you.”

  “I had to see you though.”

  “Well, you’ve seen me now. I need you to get out of here.”

  "I also wanted to thank you."

  "For what?"

  "For saving my life. For risking your freedom to help me."

  "There was never even a question about it in my mind." I couldn't help but take her hands in mine and she squeezed affectionately.

  "And for that, I thank you. I hate seeing you like this. The guys are working hard trying to find your lookalike."

  "I have no doubt they are. How about you, you're okay after the sting?"

  "All better," she smiled as her words assured me and I felt a weight lift off my shoulders.

  "I'm so glad."

  "They are trying to get your bail overturned and that way you can be out until trial."

  "Good. I doubt that the judge will change his mind but it's worth a shot."

  CHAPTER 20

  Hana

  “We have to get him out of there,” I blurted out the moment Chris opened the door to me.

  “Hi, Hana. Won’t you come in?” he stepped out of my way and I walked inside.

  “He can’t stay in there. You saw him. He isn’t safe.”

  “He’s handled tougher situations than this and we are doing all we can to get him out.”

  “We have to do more.”

  “What more can we do? We are searching for the lookalike, Peterson but it's like he’s disappeared into the wind.

  “Do you have to find him to get Mason out?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They don’t have to have the other suspect. They just need to see that one exists.”

  “We have no way of telling that it was him and not Mason who constructed the bomb and they have Mason’s phone making the call to detonate the bomb. It doesn’t look good.”

  “Whose side are you on anyway?”

  “Mason’s of course but I’m just telling you what the judge will say. We need something more solid.”

  I tapped my fingernail on the table nervously while my mind desperately searched for possible solutions.

  “What about canvassing the area? Maybe he went to a gas station or a restaurant around the time of the bombing that could place him in the area.”

  “The police already canvased with Mason’s picture and came up empty.”

  “We can’t just sit around doing nothing. There has to be something we can do to help.”

  “I’m not sure what. But we aren’t giving up.”

  “It sure sounds like you are,” I snapped.

  Chris’s phone rang and he quickly cut me off to answer, “James? They called again? What did they—? Okay. Let me call the guys and we will see what we can come up with.” Chris hung up the phone and dialed another number.

  “I’m sorry but Natalie is in real danger right now. We need to find her and bring her home.”

  He turned his attention back to his phone as I could tell someone answered.

  “Director. They contacted James again. Yes, sir. They are demanding new intel now. I’ve got an idea of how we can keep them busy for a little while to buy us some time without putting her at more risk. Yes, sir. Okay. I’ll meet you there.”

  “I’m sorry, Hana. I have to go deal with this. We aren’t forgetting about Mason but we have to triage the situation. Mason isn’t in immediate danger. Natalie is.”

  “I understand. I’m going.”

  “Good. Thank you and I’m sorry but we will figure something out.”

  Chris rushed for the door and I followed. I found a copy of the picture of Peterson and snatched it up while Chris was distracted. I understood why they were busy but that didn’t mean I couldn’t see what I could do on my own.

  I slipped the picture under my shirt and told Chris goodbye before hopping in my car with a new sense of determination. They were busy trying to find Natalie and I didn't blame them for that. I understood, and I hoped they would find her before anything else happened.

  I drove down to the marina, figuring I would start with the shops closest to the crime scene and working my way out. I pulled up a map on my phone, using the app to find any convenience stores within a five-mile radius. There was only one and so I drove straight there to see what I could find out.

  I walked into the small gas station, the tiny bell chimed to alert my arrival and the clerk looked up from his phone.

  I offered him a friendly smile and approached the counter.

  "Hello ma'am. What can I get for ya?"

  "Hi. I was hoping you could help me. Do you remember that accident that happened at the marina two weeks ago?"

  "Accident? Oh, you mean the bombing? That was no accident."

  "You don't happen to be the one who was working here that day were you?"

  "Yes, ma'am. Why are you asking about the bombing?"

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out the photo, unfolded it, and held it up to him. "I was wondering if you saw this man on or around the night of the bombing."

  "Are you with the cops? They already asked me that with a different picture and I'll tell you like I told them. I've never seen that guy before."

  "You're sure?"

  "Absolutely."

  "Okay, thank you for your time."

  I walked back to my car. Before pulling off again, I reprogrammed my phone to find any convenience stores within ten miles. Each one, I heard the same thing and with each failed attempt I got a little more disappointed. Perhaps the guy was smarter than I thought. Maybe he didn't stop at any store in the nearby area. This was my only lead and Mason's only chance at the moment.

  Reluctantly, I widened my search again to include any stations within 20 miles and started for the first store.

  I was nearly halfway done with my list of convenience stores in the twenty-mile radius when I pulled up to a gas station and truck stop. I walked inside without the chime of a bell and headed for a
burly man standing behind the counter.

  “Well hello there, little lady. What brings you out our way?”

  “Hi. I was wondering if you could help me? I pulled out the picture and held it up where he could see. Have you happened to see this man in the past couple of weeks?”

  “Donnie? Yeah he comes in here all the time.”

  “So, you know him?”

  “Yeah sure do. What are you looking for him for?”

  “I just need to ask him some questions.”

  “You with the police?”

  “The police? No.”

  “Well that's a shame. Always thought he was a bit squirrelly. I never did trust him.”

  “Why not?”

  “Something in the eyes. I can't really explain it but a girl like you should stay far away from a guy like him. He is nothing but trouble.”

  “Was he by any chance here exactly two weeks ago?”

  “I can't say for certain but if you check back with me tomorrow, I can review the security footage and let you know.”

  “Really? That would be wonderful.”

  “Are you sure you're not with the cops? I mean you don't look like a cop but I can't imagine anyone else looking for him.”

  “Just think of me as a concerned citizen. I flashed my most charming smile at him and he just chuckled.”

  “He scribbled something down on a piece of paper from the receipt spool and handed it to me. Here's my number doll. You take care and be safe looking for a man like that. Call me around eight in the morning and I should have an answer for you.”

  “Thank you again. I was so excited I nearly skipped out of the gas station, pulling my phone from my pocket and calling Chris.”

  “Hey Hana. Is everything all right?” There was a lot of noise in the background and I wasn't sure what was going on but Chris sounded busy.

  “Yeah everything's okay I've actually got some great news. I found a lead on Mason's case.”

  “Is it a viable lead?”

  “I think so. I've got a gas station clerk who recognized the picture of Donovan Evans and said he's a regular at the gas station. It's twenty minutes from the marina and he's going to check the security footage to see if he was there the night of the bombing or the day before.”

 

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