No Good Deed

by Ali Franklin

  The men left the office and Nicki sat back in her chair. She used a key to open her bottom desk drawer, then pulled out her personal weapon and an ankle holster. She strapped on the holster and adjusted her pant leg. Then she walked to the parking lot.

  She started to call Gus, then remembered Ryan’s message:

  I need to talk to you about Gus right now.

  Nicki didn’t know what the words meant, but she trusted her friend’s instincts. She dialed Jack’s number and left another message:

  Jack, it’s Nicki again. Ryan was in an accident. Chase Arrington’s brother said he was going to drive her to the hospital, but we can’t find her. And something’s going on with Gus. Please call me.

  Nicki leaned back against the seat and concentrated on her breathing for a minute. Dexter Arrington might not know the way to the nearest hospital, but he probably knew the way to his brother’s home. That was the only place Nicki could think of to look for her friend.

  She took another deep breath. Ryan, how do you always get yourself mixed up with bad guys?

  Nicki turned her phone face-up in her hand and stared at the screen. Why wasn’t Jack calling? She smacked her palms on her knees in frustration.

  “Damn, damn, damn.”

  She wasn’t getting anywhere. She still had no idea whether Ryan was safe or not. She couldn’t find Jack. She knew Smith and Patel would back her up if she went to Chase’s house, but college policy prohibited her from using patrol officers for operations that weren’t directly related to campus security.

  Nicki’s heart throbbed in her chest. She couldn’t just sit here and do nothing while Ryan might be in danger. On the other hand, years of training had taught her never to walk into an unknown situation without backup.

  “Damn!”

  She started the car. She couldn’t just sit there. She would do a drive-by of the Arrington house and see what there was to see. If there was a puke-green Cadillac in the driveway, at least she’d know Dexter was there. And if he was, he’d better look out. Nicki wasn’t keen on people kidnapping her friends.

  A pang shot through her stomach at the thought of Ryan being at Dexter’s mercy. It was more than unease for someone who’d been taken advantage of. Ryan was her friend—maybe even more than a friend.

  Nicki leaned back against the headrest again. Maybe more than a friend? She rubbed her forehead with the palm of one hand and promised herself she’d reconsider that thought later. Right now, she had to find Dexter and make sure Ryan was safe.

  She pulled out of the parking lot and turned toward Wild Bird Estates.

  Chapter 21

  Gus turned and stared at the woman sitting in his passenger seat. Ryan looked like hell: Bloody hands, dirty clothes, and messy hair. He wondered what had happened—and why she was all the way out here near Chase’s neighborhood.

  Ryan hunched forward with her forearms on her thighs, panting. She seemed to be staring at a spot between her knees. He reached over and laid a hand on her forearm.

  “Ms. McCabe, what happened to you?”

  She turned her head and winced. The motion was obviously painful. “I was hit by a car.”

  “When? Why didn’t you call an ambulance?”

  He saw her take a breath to answer, but then she stopped. She looked up at him, her eyes full of pain.

  “Gus, will you take me to the hospital? I need to see a doctor.”

  “Of course.”

  He put the car into drive and pulled away from the curb. Ryan returned to staring at the floorboard, but he could tell she was watching him in her peripheral vision. Something strange was going on.

  His phone buzzed and he glanced down to see an incoming call.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I’ve got to take this.”

  He answered with a grunt and listened as a male voice on the other end of the line spoke in frantic tones. Gus didn’t add much to the conversation.

  “Oh…ah…I see. Mm-hmm…well…I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  He ended the call and set his phone in the cup holder. Then he went across two lanes of traffic to make a U-turn and stepped on the gas.

  Ryan gripped the door handle. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m taking you to get help.”

  “Help is back there,” said Ryan, jerking a thumb over her shoulder.

  “Then I’m taking you to a place where you can rest.”

  Ryan slumped back against the seat. She didn’t move a muscle until Gus pulled the sedan into Chase’s front driveway.

  The detective was prepared for Ryan to try an escape, but it appeared the dean didn’t have anything left in her tank. She stared at the front door of the house and sighed.

  Gus walked around and helped her out of the car. He put an arm around her waist as he led her up the front steps and into the house. This time, she let her captor lead her into the kitchen. Chase and Dexter sat at the table. Dexter had a glass of brown liquid in front of him and Chase was drinking from a bottle of water. Both men looked up as the new arrivals joined them.

  Ryan looked at Chase and motioned toward his bottle of water. He went to the fridge and brought back one for her. She drank half of it before setting it down on the table, then spoke.

  “Guys, this doesn’t have to be a big deal. Please just take me to the hospital and I’ll forget all about Dexter bringing me here. No harm, no foul.”

  Dexter raised his eyebrows and looked at his brother. “She’s right. I mean, we haven’t really done anything wrong here.”

  Chase scowled at his brother, then looked at Gus. “She knows.”

  Gus raised an eyebrow. “Knows what?”

  Ryan leaned forward, both palms on the table. “I don’t know anything. One minute I was drinking iced tea at O’Leary’s and the next minute I’d been hit by a car.”

  “She knows,” repeated Chase. “Bigmouth here,” he gestured to his brother, “showed her pictures of us from college.”

  “So we knew each other in college,” said Gus. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Gus.” Chase’s voice was starting to sound like a whine. “She’s smart. She figured out that we were in it to—”

  Gus slammed his fist on the table and stood. “Shut the hell up, Chase. We’re not in anything together.”

  Dexter let out a juicy burp. “Except killing that bitch Veronica.”

  Gus took one step and punched Dexter right in the nose. The younger brother stood, but his feet got tangled in his chair and he fell, landing on his butt. His hands flew up to cover his nose and came away dripping with blood.

  “You bastard,” Dexter shouted. “You broke my damn nose!”

  Chase ran to the freezer to get some ice. “You two get it together. We’ve got more important things to take care of, like what we’re going to do with her.”

  Ryan raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. “I don’t know anything, Chase. I have no idea what you guys are talking about, and I don’t want to know. Just let me go.”

  Gus stepped around the table to stand behind Ryan. “Oh no, you’re not going anywhere.”

  “Gus, it would be your word against mine, and you’re a cop. Besides, I’m pretty sure I have a concussion. All of this could be in my imagination.”

  “It’s too late,” said Gus. “If these two could have kept their mouths shut a little while longer, it might’ve been okay. But now…”

  Dexter was holding the ice packs to his nose while his brother held a kitchen towel near his chin to catch the blood.

  “Whatcha gon’ do?” Dexter’ voice was muffled through the towel. “Kill ‘nother one?”

  Chase looked up, eyes wide. “Gus, we can’t kill anybody else.”

  “So you’re ready to go to jail? Well, I’m not. Everybody knows what they do to cops in jail.” Gus looked down at Ryan. “I’m not gonna die in prison because this bitch can’t keep her mouth shut.”

  Chase sighed. “You’re right. But don’t do it here.”

  “No,” said
Gus. “The case is still open. Jack and the rest of them could come back at any time.” He walked to the bar and poured himself a glass of vodka, which he downed in a single gulp.

  “Where ya gon’ do it, then?” asked Dexter.

  The detective looked at him. “Maybe you should do it, Dex, seeing as how you’re the one who made sure she knew.”

  “Yeah,” said Chase. “Knocking out women seems to be your thing. You said you laid out that campus cop.”

  Dexter’ eyes widened and he turned to look at his brother. “All I did was knock her out. I didn’t kill anyone. Besides, this is your mess.”

  “But if you took care of this one,” said Gus, “you’d have as much to lose as us—and you’d have to keep your stupid mouth shut.”

  The detective looked at Chase and jerked his head toward the living room. “Let’s go talk about the options.” He pointed a finger at Dexter. “You stay here and keep an eye on her. If she moves, yell. One of us will come handle it.”

  “I can take care of her,” Dexter grumbled.

  “She already got away from you once tonight,” said Chase. “Don’t let that happen again.”

  Gus and Chase went into the next room. Ryan, who had been looking down at the table top, lifted her head and looked at Dexter.

  “Is your nose feeling any better?” she asked.

  He let out a long breath. “No. It hurts like a mother.”

  “I know something that’ll help. Do you think there are any more ice packs in the freezer?”

  “I already have an ice pack.”

  “If you let me help, I’ll get something cold and hold it on the back of your neck.” She pointed to the uneven bridge of her own nose. “I know a little bit about that kind of pain.”

  “Don’t try anything funny, or they’ll come back and break your nose next.”

  She sighed. They were probably going to do a lot worse than that.

  Chapter 22

  Nicki drove toward Wild Bird Estates as she formulated a plan. She continued to leave messages for Jack as she drove. Where the hell was he?

  The chief could tell a thousand stories of cops who’d chosen to go into dangerous situations without backup. Most of those stories ended up being cautionary tales for other cops. Nicki didn’t want to be that kind of statistic.

  On the other hand, it was Ryan. She couldn’t just leave her friend at the mercy of a man who’d already killed twice. Nicki knew Chase had alibis for both Veronica’s and Emma’s deaths, but she was sure he was responsible somehow. She couldn’t hide in her office while Ryan became his third victim. She re-dialed Jack’s number and left a new message:

  Jack, it’s Nicki. I think Ryan is being held at Chase’s house. I’m going out there and I need backup. I’ll wait till you get there. Hurry.

  She was less than a block from the entrance to subdivision when the engine sputtered and died.

  “What the hell?” she asked the car.

  The ‘07 hatchback didn’t answer, but a gauge on the dash told her it was out of gas.

  “You have got to be kidding me.”

  Without thinking, she glided into a parking lot, got out, and locked the doors. She took a deep breath and ran as fast as her aching head would let her. She turned into the neighborhood entrance and paused. Chase lived on Bluebird Lane, which was, if she remembered correctly, to her left.

  She found Bluebird and backtracked to the alleyway between the houses on Bluebird Lane and houses on the next street. Chase’s yard would back up to the alley.

  Nicki’s plan was to sneak through Chase’s back yard and look in his windows while she waited for Jack. If she happened to find an opportunity to rescue Ryan, all the better. The problem was that houses didn’t have numbers in the back. She might have to look in a few windows before finding the right one.

  She checked her phone. Jack still hadn’t called. She flicked off the ringer and pocketed it.

  If the houses on Bluebird Lane followed the same numbering pattern as the rest of the houses in Haverwood, the first house number on the street would end in 00 or 04. If that were the case, 2912 Bluebird must be the third or fourth house in.

  Each property on this block had a high fence surrounding the backyard. Nicki found a gate in the fence of the third house and tried the latch. It was locked. She looked up. The fence was about eight feet tall. At 5’8”, Nicki was taller than many of her friends. But it would still take some effort to get over the fence unseen.

  She walked to the next house. The latch on this gate was broken. Nicki eased it open and poked her head around the gate, looking for signs of habitation. She was too far away to see into the house’s windows, but no one was in the backyard.

  The yard was flat with lush green grass. Large plants were scattered around the edges. Nicki stayed between the plants and the fence as much as she could while she moved toward the house.

  She finally reached a wall of red brick and eased herself close to a window. She flattened her body, chest-first, against the warm, rough brick and slid her head inch by inch toward the window frame. With one eye, she saw what must have been a den. Large leather couches, ottomans, and a big-screen TV took up the space. No one was there.

  She walked to the next window, expecting to see Ryan’s face at any second. She tilted her head until she could see into a bright kitchen. A man and woman stood at an island in the middle of the room preparing a meal. Nicki frowned. It wasn’t Chase’s house.

  She turned and looked to her right, at the first house whose yard she’d tried to get into. That must have been Chase’s house. While she considered how to get into the yard, she strayed into full view of the people in the kitchen. Suddenly, she heard a scream.

  Nicki looked toward the sound and saw the woman pointing through the window at her. The man screamed, but Nicki couldn’t make out his words. She waved her arms in an attempt to tell the residents everything was okay. She even pointed at her badge, but the man came running through the back door.

  “What the hell are you doing in my backyard?”

  Nicki used her biggest, baddest LAPD cop voice. “Sir, there may be a fugitive sneaking through the backyards in this neighborhood. You’d better stay inside.”

  The man’s eyes widened. “Are we in danger?”

  “No, he has a specific target, but we’re close to catching him. Please go inside and lock your doors.”

  Nicki started to walk back toward the gate to the alley, then turned around.

  “Sir, is there an easy way to get into the backyard next door?” She pointed toward Chase’s house. On impulse, she added, “And can you tell me the name of your neighbors?”

  The man pointed toward the gate that led to his front yard. “This gate goes toward my front yard. Chase and—” he paused. “Chase has a gate in his fence there, too. He usually leaves it unlocked.”

  “Chase? Do you mean Chase Arrington?” Nicki hoped knowing Chase’s name would lend credence to her image as a cop on the hunt.

  “Yes, that’s him. His wife died about a week ago.”

  Nicki nodded. “Thank you. Now please go inside.”

  The man did as he was told and Nicki left through the front gate. As predicted, Chase’s front gate was unlocked. She went in. Knowing she was at the right house, she crept toward the first window. It was actually a French door, and it led to the master bedroom. The room was empty.

  The next window looked into a den. Nicki whistled under her breath. These people have some gigantic TVs in this neighborhood.

  Next was the back door. The top half of the door was made up of small windows. She looked in to see a small hallway and what might have been a mudroom. Through an opening at the far end, she could see Dexter Arrington sitting at the kitchen table. Someone sat across from him, but she couldn’t tell who it was. Her heart lurched. From the shape of the leg and the arm, Nicki suspected it was Ryan.

  Nicki stepped back from the door and opened her mouth wide to take in a deep breath. “Ryan, I’m coming,” she whi
spered. “Hang on,” she whispered.

  So Chase did have Ryan. And Dexter hadn’t taken her to the hospital. Ryan could be sitting in that kitchen with a concussion or internal injuries.

  Nicki’s eyes fluttered closed. She squeezed them tight, trying to stem the tears. It didn’t work. She wiped away the moisture with her sleeve and told herself not to sniffle.

  A commotion came from inside the house. She peeked in with one eye and saw Dexter grab Ryan roughly by the arm and stand her up. Gus came into view behind them. Then Dexter, Ryan, Gus, and Chase walked through the kitchen door toward Nicki. Ryan’s hands were cuffed in front of her.

  They turned to their left and disappeared from Nicki’s view. She ran to the next window and looked. It was another bedroom and she couldn’t see anything. Then she heard talking.

  Shit.

  She ran back to the gate and peeked through. The sound was louder here, which meant they must be in the driveway. That wasn’t good.

  Nicki didn’t have backup and she didn’t have a car. It seemed the men were about to take Ryan somewhere—maybe somewhere they would kill her. Nicki huffed in frustration, but she knew what she had to do.

  I’m not letting them take her without a fight.

  She bent over and retrieved her pistol from her ankle holster. She ran to the edge of the house and peeked around to the front yard. Chase was holding open the door of what looked like Gus’s service vehicle while Dexter helped Ryan into the backseat.

  The men were so deep in conversation that they weren’t paying attention to their surroundings. This might be Nicki’s only chance. She ran around the side of the house and stopped ten feet from the vehicle, pointing her gun at at the men.

  Dexter screamed like a fifth-grade girl.

  “Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Chase bellowed. “Get off my property.”

  “Back away from the car,” Nicki yelled. “All three of you come over here and sit with your backs against this wall.” She pointed with her free hand.