Alex rested his chin on her heaving shoulder. “God, you fight the same way every time, you know that? You’re predictable. Other than FBI Agents, it’s your biggest weakness.”
Tully struggled to draw a breath through the searing pain. “I would have done anything for you.” She didn’t know why she said it. One last pathetic plea for his approval.
“You did everything I needed you to do, like the good little experiment you were.” His voice was cold. “If it's any consolation, you were my best.” He spread her wrists and planted a kick in the small of her back.
Unable to get her bad leg underneath her, Tully fell next to the chair. She crawled behind it desperate to put something, anything, between them. Bending her right leg under, she threw her weight down hard. Her hip popped back into place. More stars.
She pulled herself up clutching the backrest for support. Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the cold room, and she swayed as she took one hand off the chair.
Alex was menacing as he paced in front waiting for her next move. “I’m not the kind of man you tell goodbye.”
“It would have been a consolation before, but you said it too late. I’m not that girl anymore.” She saw Alex’s eyes narrow. “And I’m not saying goodbye, Alex.” Tully pulled her father’s Nightguard out of the waistband of her jeans and aimed it at him.
The blast hit her ear hard but dissolved into the thumping base. Alex staggered back and looked in disbelief at the red stain growing on his shirt. He fell to his knees then to one elbow. A groan escaped his gaping mouth as his head hit the floor. Tully watched his chest rise once more then stop.
Tully walked over and knelt beside him. She ran her hand over his face to shut his eyes, then bowed her head and sobbed bitterly.
Someone pounded on the door. Everyone heard the shot. A key scraped on metal, but Tully opened the door before they could unlock it. Brent Jackson held the key in his bony hand, eyes gaping. Behind him the brunette Tully tossed out and several men crowded the door gawking at the scene behind her. Blood dripped from Tully's face onto her white t-shirt. Wynn’s blood smeared her gun hand as she pointed it at them.
A path appeared through the mob as they retreated from her wild, raw expression. She moved across the main room not bothering to stay in the shadows. The music still thumped but no one moved. They were all watching her.
Two steps from the front door it opened, but she was ready. She ducked low between the two bouncers that let her in. Coming up beside the white bouncer, she buried the butt of her gun in the side of his wide neck. He fell to his knees. She leveled it at the black bouncer who raised his hands and backed up.
Tully turned and fled into the night. Feet slapped the pavement as they gave chase, but she easily outpaced them. Their heavy breathing faded and disappeared. She turned right and kept running. She didn't have long.
THIRTY-SIX
The alley teemed with police and pulsed with red and blue flashing lights. Luke stopped when the yellow ribbon warning ‘Police Line - Do Not Cross’ grazed his belt and watched the scene.
Patrons and dancers in borrowed men’s jackets paced in a corner of the alley, corralled by a uniformed officer. Through the open door, Luke could see more men and women inside overseen by more uniforms. His gaze travelled over the brick mansion towering two stories above them, a look of disgust growing on his face.
At the other end, Captain Timothy talked to three plainclothes detectives in a tight huddle. His rumpled gray polo and khakis had been selected in an obvious hurry. All four wore guns, badges, and stunned expressions. Luke’s eyes narrowed when he saw the Captain pinching his nose.
Thad approached the officer manning the tape line and pulled out his credentials. She nodded and lifted the crime scene tape so they could cross. Luke ducked under but stayed at the top of the small hill by the road. Thad didn't leave his side.
Captain Timothy clapped one of the detectives on the shoulder and said something to him. The detective nodded. The Captain turned and looked over the scene with a tight expression. His eyes stopped on Luke backlit by red and blue strobes at the top of the alley. Luke saw him sigh then start towards them, his normal energy missing.
Luke spoke first. “Was she hurt?”
Thad glanced uncomfortably between the men, but the Captain seemed to be thinking the same thing. “We’re not sure. There’s not much blood and most of it looks like his. But witnesses say she was bleeding and limping. They…”
“Where is she?” Luke cut him off.
“I don't know. We’re getting a search warrant for her apartment right now.” The Captain’s eyes narrowed as something occurred to him. “How did you find out about this? It only happened forty-five minutes ago.”
Luke wasn’t about to answer that question. He put his face next to Captain Timothy’s and growled, “Did you know?”
“Know what? I don’t even know what happened, or why she was here. She didn’t even know the victim.” Realization and dread dawned on his face at the same time. “Did she?”
Luke laughed bitterly. “Oh, she knew him, alright.”
“What? How?”
“He was her handler.” Luke wasn’t laughing anymore. Every word out of his mouth was a hiss through gritted teeth.
Confusion replaced the dread. “What do you mean ‘her handler’? I don’t underst….”
“She’s a killer, Captain. Your precious Tully is a killer.”
The Captain took a step back as if Luke had physically hit him. He shook his head slowly, but his brow furrowed.
“Did you know?” Luke roared at him. The entire alley stopped and turned to watch.
“How…how could I know?” Captain Timothy’s gaze dropped to the pavement. His shoulders slumped as he began to grasp what Luke was saying.
It made Luke angrier. “The same way I should have known,” Luke hissed, his voice low again. “None of us were fucking paying attention.”
“I’ve known her since she was a girl. I knew her father. It’s not…it’s not…” He trailed off and his eyes glazed over. Luke knew he was remembering the red flags. The small things he had dismissed that now made sense. A list that would forever make him question how he didn’t know.
Luke knew because he had his own list. “Not what? Possible? Anyone is capable of anything and it’s our job to know it. That line is not going to work anymore. Now tell me what you know.”
“Okay.” The Captain pinched his nose and exhaled loudly through pursed lips. Finally, he met Luke’s accusing glare. “She had a problem with the pills and booze. Everybody knew that,” he whispered. “She took a bullet on the job for pete’s sake. I thought that…”
Luke stepped so close their chests bumped. “Did you cover up Atlanta for her too?”
“What do you…Atlanta?” The Captain was confused again.
“She killed Cecil Twomey. Assassinated him actually. What? You didn’t know that either?”
Captain Timothy’s eyes grew wide in disbelief. Or fear. Luke couldn’t tell.
“Oh, that’s right. It’s not possible. Savannah loves their pretty little hero, even if you roll her over and find maggots underneath.”
The Captain seemed to rally when Luke slurred Tully. He brought his hand up and gestured at Luke like a man used to giving orders. “Listen, we’ll handle this. She’s…”
Luke didn’t give a shit if he was the ranking officer on the scene. “She is an assassin. How the hell are you supposed to ‘handle’ this? She was one of yours. She gaslighted you worse than she did me.”
Luke’s accusation punished Captain Timothy into silence. He couldn’t seem to find any words to rebuff the onslaught which suited Luke just fine. Less interruption for his tirade. “Here I am beating myself up for not figuring it out after a couple of months, and you’ve known her for her entire life. I guess it was easier to look the other way. But you can’t anymore. It’s my turn now.”
The Captain’s face turned red. “You listen here. We’re going to take
…”
“No. You are not.” Luke jammed a finger in his chest. “You will stay out of my way, or I will take this city apart brick by brick.” Luke didn’t wait for a reply. Spinning, he yanked up the crime scene tape and strode into the street so fast Thad had to jog to catch up.
“I want our evidence team in that building. Yesterday. And mobilize the tactical unit.
“Uh, to where?”
“I don’t know yet, but I want them in the chopper on their way here. They can hold at the airport. When I find her, I want them ready to go. Got it?”
“Luke, wait.”
“Discussion’s over, Aulden.” Luke walked toward the car.
“Where are you going?” Thad threw up his hands.
“Her apartment.”
“Then I’m coming with you.” Thad moved to follow him, his cell phone already in his hand. “She could still be there.”
Luke stopped at the car and put his hands on the roof. He bowed his head, afraid his face would betray him. “Do what I asked please, Thaddeus,” he said quietly.
Thad took a step back. He wasn’t sure if he should follow anyway or try to talk Luke out of it. He decided against both. “Alright, Boss. I can get TRT here in forty-five minutes. ERT will take longer. They’re all in bed.”
Luke got into the car and slammed the door. Tires squealed as he hit the gas.
“Sure, I’ll get a ride back,” Thad muttered.
Ten minutes later, Luke’s tires scraped the curb and he jumped out. Once more he found himself standing on Gaston Street. It was five in the morning and everyone was asleep. Luke stood outside the tunnel and let regret sear through him. Twenty-four hours ago, the woman he loved couldn’t keep her hands off of him. Now he hunted her like an animal.
Several feet away a glint caught his eye. On the sidewalk by a parked car, shards of glass reflected the streetlamp. He walked over.
Under the front tire, he saw a manilla envelope. He picked it up and examined it. It was blank and empty. Luke put it in his pocket and looked around to see where the glass came from. The car window was intact, so he knelt to pick up a piece and saw it. The trail of bloody smears leading from the glass toward the arch. At the sight of the blood, Luke took off running through the tunnel.
At her door, he stopped and drew his weapon. What he would find inside was a guess. He twisted the knob. Of course, she hadn’t locked it. He pushed the door open.
The apartment was dark. Luke stepped into the foyer and pressed his shoulder against the wall. The familiar smell of gardenia made the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up. “Tully?”
No answer came and he couldn’t bring himself to say her name again.
Leading with the muzzle of his gun, he stepped into the living room. The first thing he noticed was the large framed photo of her father missing from the couch end table. He cleared the living room and the kitchen then ran to the bedroom.
Clothes draped out of dresser drawers that had been haphazardly pulled open. She’d been here and left in a hurry. The closet was and the light was on, but the hanging clothes appeared undisturbed. The top shelf, however, had been tossed.
Luke holstered his gun and sat on the bed. He hadn’t expected her to be there. He certainly hadn’t expected his raging anger to transform into confusion. Why was he confused? The mission was crystal clear now.
He picked up her pillow and buried his face in it. It smelled like her. Memory after memory soured like a mouthful of vinegar in his stomach. He drew another deep breath allowing himself to hate everything it brought to mind. Luke threw the pillow on the floor and looked at the closet shelf.
The left side looked more jumbled than the right except for a void against the wall. He tried to remember if he ever noticed a bag there but came up with nothing. Luggage was not on his mind during the hours he’d spent there.
He walked to the closet and examined the shelf closer. A blue ceramic dish lay upended, empty. A cardboard box sat beside it. He couldn’t see into the box, so he pulled it off the shelf. It contained the lid to the blue ceramic dish, a blank notepad, and a brown Stetson with a gold star on the front. Her father’s hat.
The notebook didn’t look as old as the other pieces. In fact, it looked new, except that several pieces had been torn from it. The half-circle remnants of the top pages were still caught in the spiral spine. He tossed it and the box on the bed. Then he turned his attention to the desk.
Pulling open the drawers he rifled through the papers inside. Nothing but medical paperwork, bills and old receipts. Luke opened the laptop sitting on the desk and ran his finger over the mouse pad to wake it up. The password prompt appeared. Luke typed in every word and date he could think of that she might use, but each time ‘password incorrect’ flashed on the screen. Luke tried the date her father died.
Password Incorrect
The laptop flew across the room and Luke let out a roar of frustration. Drywall pieces flew onto the carpet as the computer bounced off the wall and fell to the floor. She was in the wind. the assassin had an escape plan.
He fell onto the bed meaning to clutch his head in his hands. The box corner crunched under his holster as he sat down. He grabbed it and meant to throw it across the room too, when he spotted the notebook again. Why was it hidden away in the closet with her father’s hat?
Luke leafed through every page. Blank. He was about to toss it into the box when he thought of something. Flipping to the first page he turned the notebook on its side and held it up to the light, looking across the surface.
Gotcha.
It was faint, but the paper was indented. Something had been written on the page above and torn off, a tale-tail impression left behind.
Luke stepped to the desk and grabbed the small lamp. He snapped it on and held it so it shined across the surface of the paper. Sure enough, the oblique light accentuated the indented writing well enough to make out most of it. He grabbed a pen and a scrap of paper and began copying the letters he could make out.
It was a list.
Cape Ak_itas
Pacon
Edi_h
Ulsa_
Triumph
Mes_ina
_rge_t Fr_esia
Atl_nta
Nord Hak_ta
So that was her out.
Luke dropped the lamp and grabbed the list he wrote. He strode through the apartment and out the door for the last time. The urge to look back was strong, but he resisted. It was time to close this chapter, not relive it.
By the time he cleared the tunnel, Thad’s phone was ringing. Luke heard jet engines whine in the background. Thad was at the airport.
“She’s headed for the port,” he said.
Thad sounded stressed. Luke imagined him running around organizing a vehicle convoy to accept the Tactical Response Team and their inevitable piles of equipment. “Sorry, what?” Thad yelled over the ruckus on the tarmac.
“You got an ETA?”
“TRT is about ten minutes out,” yelled Thad.
“As soon as they touch down, get everyone to the Port of Savannah. Go straight there. She’s leaving on a cargo ship. I’m headed over there now. I’ll let you know when I find her.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
The burning anger Luke felt at Tully’s apartment had evaporated. The thought of seeing her made him numb. Whether denial or a fault of his senses, it seemed like a long time ago that he found out about her. As though ages had passed.
Luke glanced at his watch after he passed a sign announcing the Port of Savannah entrances. Early morning traffic was light, and he’d blown through every red light. It hadn’t been ages. It had been twelve minutes. He couldn’t trust his perception or judgment. Once again, she had the advantage.
Maybe it would be better if he was too late to stop her. He would look like a buffoon, but it was no more than he deserved. She could disappear into legend, and he could retire into obscurity. Didn’t sound so bad. But even as he thought it, Luke mashed the accelerator do
wn harder.
The guardhouse appeared in his headlights much quicker than he anticipated. He slammed on the brakes to avoid the reflective gate arm.
Security at gate one was a small windowed building between the entrance and exit lanes. Steel arms stuck out from both sides blocking the road. An 8-foot chain link fence ran in both directions with barb wire spiraled on top. The drowsing security guard’s feet dropped off the counter as the Impala screeched to a halt. The guard slid off his stool, all traces of sleep gone.
“Where do I find a schedule of ships departing today?” Luke yelled at him before he could make it to the gatehouse door. Luke stuck his credentials out the window hoping to speed things up.
The guard’s name badge said ‘Chris’. Chris wore a white polo with the blue Georgia Port Authority logo and black pants. He had a fat plug of tobacco in his lower lip and looked confused at the man shouting at him. His regulars were bored dock workers dreading the day’s shift, which wasn’t due to start for another two hours. He squinted at the badge Luke held out. “Watchoo want departures for, sir? What is that?” Chris gestured to Luke’s badge.
Luke ignored the first question. “FBI. Where is the office?”
“What office? Can ya be more specific? We got a lotta offices here.” With a little more swagger now, Chris spat onto the patchy grass by the guardhouse.
“I need to see the schedule of ship departures.”
“Should I get the perimeter units here?” Instead of answering Chris grew excited. “I got a couple of guys that can…”
“Son, answer the question and let me through this gate,” Luke said loudly.
Chris’s face fell as his hopes of getting in on the action were dashed. He shrugged. “You don’t need it. Ain’t but one departure this morning. Container ship weighing anchor in about forty-five minutes. The Argent Freesia. There’s a couple container ships being offloaded now, and more coming in but they won’t be ready to go…”
Luke recognized the name from the list. “Where’s the Argent Freesia?”
“She’s docked at berth 5.”
The Last Innocent Page 28