“I think I’d rather just be alone for a bit,” Nick responded. His words dribbled out of his mouth with the fervor of a man with his head on the chopping block.
“It’s not up for debate.”
Nick noted the resolve in his friend’s eyes and slumped in defeated resignation.
“All right Just don’t expect much in the way of company,” Nick said.
“With you, I never do,” Declan said.
Nick appreciated his friend’s attempts at humor, but it only managed to sink him deeper. Life is strange. A year ago, he’d been looking at Enright for an armed robbery. Fast forward to the present and that same man is his closest friend.
They pulled up to the two-story gray colonial. It looked much as it did the first time Nick had been to the house, minus the burning minivan with Declan’s wife and daughter trapped inside. He and Izzy had saved them from a fiery death that day. Now she was dead.
Declan’s large Chevy Suburban barely fit on the small driveway. The wheels on the driver’s side settled a few inches onto a swath of lawn, more dirt than grass from the repeated abuse of the heavy automobile. The branches of the ice-covered maple tree hung low, hovering a fraction of an inch above the roof. Nick saw the inconsequential garage that wouldn’t comfortably fit a go-cart, let alone a car, and understood why the Enrights crammed both family vehicles into the minimal square footage of the cracked asphalt driveway. Declan had left just enough space for Val to squeeze the Corolla in when she arrived home.
Nick stepped out and slipped on a slick spot of black ice invisibly coating the ground. He grabbed the door to keep from falling.
Declan saw Nick’s near spill. “Sorry. It’s pretty slippery. I haven’t had a chance to throw some salt down yet.”
“No worries. I plan on leaving a negative review on Hotels.com,” Nick said.
The thought of mocking his friend’s humble abode carried an immediate shot of guilt, knowing the financial battle Declan’s family was facing with the cost associated in raising their autistic youngest daughter Laney. He knew Declan well enough that his friend wouldn’t be offended, but it felt wrong and he assumed the oversensitivity was due to the current circumstance.
“The girls will be home from school soon. They’ll be excited to see you. I’m still not sure what we’re going to tell them. They loved Izzy too,” Declan said.
“I’ll leave that to you. The parenting thing isn’t my strong suit.”
“Not yet, but it will be sooner than you know,” Declan said smiling.
Nick followed Declan to the side door of the house, gingerly stepping with caution as he traveled over the skating rink of a walkway. The air was raw, and Nick quickly realized that his tolerance for it had been zapped by his time in Texas. He shivered. He began vigorously rubbing his arms in an attempt to remove the cold’s grip as he entered the tight space of the Enright family’s kitchen.
“Gotta kick the shoes, buddy,” Declan said. He started taking his off on the threshold carpet before entering further into the house. “I’ve been domesticated.”
“Anaya has the same rule. I guess like wild stallions, all men can be broken.” Nick chuckled softly. “It’s a good rule if you think about it. Especially considering the nasty places our job typically sends us. Nobody should track those remnants into our homes.”
Declan nodded absently as he set about placing his shoes into a boot caddy and hung his coat on a peg near the door. The Enrights made good use of their minimal square footage. With two adults and three children, you had to be a master of consolidation when living in a two-bedroom, one-bathroom home.
“Do you want anything to eat or drink?” Declan asked.
“Is it too early for a beer?” Nick asked.
“Hmm, let me consult the wisdom of my spiritual advisor, Jimmy Buffet.” Declan closed his eyes and put his index fingers on his temples as if he was in deep meditation. “We’re good! It’s never too early. Coors Light okay?”
Nick watched as Declan retrieved two cans from the fridge. He was happy to see that his friend would also be partaking in an early afternoon beverage. At least he wouldn’t be drinking alone.
Val and Declan had taken separate cars to the hospital. Nick had heard the crunch of the tires when she pulled into the driveway shortly after their arrival, but she’d remained outside. Nick now understood what she’d been doing as Val dropped a bag of rock salt near the storm door before entering.
“Excuse me? Drinking during the day?” Val said, eyeing the cans.
Nick looked at her and gave a sheepish grin. Val took the can out of Declan’s hand.
Val laughed. “Get your own big boy!” she said taking an exaggerated sip.
All three got a slight reprieve in the levity of the moment.
Nick popped the tab, the loud metallic click followed by the familiar sound of release. He raised his drink, tapping the bottom against Declan’s.
“To Izzy,” Declan said.
Nick said nothing. He had no words for his dead friend. He took a long pull from the can.
“Heard from Anaya?” Declan asked.
“She’s still in the air. I’ll talk to her later.”
Nick’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, briefly looked at the screen, and then tapped the answer icon, bringing the phone to his ear. Nick took a sip of the cold beer and wandered away toward the dining area of the kitchen.
“I really don’t want to talk about it now. I just left the hospital and am getting settled. I’ll hit you up when I get back in town,” Nick said before letting Jones speak.
Nick had received a text message from Jones earlier requesting that he call him ASAP. Nick had responded by telling him that Izzy was dead. It was a blunt message, but he knew that Jones would take no offense. Jones responded that he needed to talk to him about a case. Nick had no interest in discussing the tragedy of a victim’s life when he was dealing with his own.
“I’m sorry about Izzy. From the little I knew of her, she seemed like a great person. But that’s not why I’m calling. You’ve got a problem,” Jones said.
“What problem? What are you talking about?”
“Remember Richard Pentlow?” Jones asked.
“Yeah. The kiddie diddler from the motel. Why? What’d he do now?” Nick asked.
“He’s dead.”
“Hmm. Well that means there is one less sicko in the world. What’s his death got to do with me?” Nick asked.
“There was a message.”
“Jones, stop beating around the bush and tell me what the hell is going on!” Nick exclaimed.
“I’m not supposed to tell you any of this. I was instructed not to, but I didn’t want to see you get blindsided. The case has already shifted to your side of the house,” Jones added.
“Why did Pentlow’s death go federal?”
“It’s a serial murder,” Jones said.
“So, you’re telling me a serial killer offed Pentlow?” Nick asked.
“Yup.”
“I still don’t get what this has to do with me. You know that I don’t work those types of cases,” Nick said, pulling deeply from the can in his hand.
“There was a message at the scene. It was addressed to you,” Jones said. His tone was serious, and the West Texas twang was suppressed.
Nick was silent.
“It’s kind of dark. Maybe it’ll mean something to you?” Jones asked.
“Go ahead with it.”
“I don’t have it memorized, but it was something about prevailing when the justice system fails.”
“I thought you said it was to me?” Nick questioned.
“That part I do remember verbatim. It said, Nick, what stands up tall but reaches low?”
Nick went silent again.
“Nick? Are you still there?” Jones asked.
“Yeah. It’s just been a hell of a day. Who’s working the case from the Bureau?”
“An agent by the name of Simmons. She came in and took over from Pet
e Cavanaugh and his crew from Homicide. She’s definitely got some balls.”
“Never heard of her,” Nick said.
“Well that’s about to change. She’s going to be looking to talk to you,” Jones said.
“I figured as much.”
“I didn’t want you to be caught with your pants down on this. I’ve got to run. We’ll talk more when you’re back this way. And Nick, we never spoke about this,” Jones said.
“Understood. I’ll be in touch. Thanks for the call,” Nick said. He slipped the phone back into his pocket.
Nick turned. Declan, obviously within earshot of the conversation, raised his can and cocked his eyebrow before taking a gulp.
Declan gave a knowing shake of his head. “When it rains, it pours.”
“That’s the damn truth.” Nick said.
Val went upstairs to change out of the clothes she’d slept in.
The side door opened, banging loudly against the nearby cabinet as Abigail and Ripley, Declan and Val’s two oldest girls, clamored into the kitchen dropping their backpacks on the floor. They paused for only a second to kick their shoes into a light pink bin on top of a small wooden bench. They rushed past Nick, without taking notice, and barreled into their father. Nick watched contentedly as the two fought to occupy the territory of their father’s neck as they wrapped their wiry arms around him.
Declan embraced both girls tightly. The Enright girls had only been away from their father for one night, but to watch the girls’ reaction, you’d think it’d been months. Nick looked on with excited anticipation of what his own future held.
“Look who stopped by for a visit, girls,” Declan said, redirecting their attention.
“Uncle Nick!” The two girls cheered in unison and charged him.
The maniacal embrace of the children gave Nick a fleeting reprieve from the weight of Izzy’s death and a needed distraction from the phone call he’d just received from Jones. In an instant they were gone, disappearing down the hall and up the stairs to what Nick assumed was their bedroom. He could hear their giggles pass through the low ceiling of the house.
“Early dismissal today. Never a dull moment in the Enright house,” Declan said.
“I guess I’ll be experiencing that first hand soon enough.” Nick said this as he thought of Anaya and their unborn child thousands of miles away.
Chapter 9
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you back last night. Or this morning. I’ve been a little out of whack since getting here,” Nick said.
“I understand. No need to explain yourself to me. I’m just so sorry I’m not there for you right now,” Anaya said.
“You are. Knowing that you’re in my life is all I need. How are you settling in? Make sure to say hello to Mouse for me,” Nick said.
“What’s next? Have arrangements been made yet?” Anaya asked.
“The funeral is being planned by her family. I’m assuming that it will be later this week. Her family is scattered so they’re going to want to delay it long enough for everyone to get here.”
“Would you like me to come?” Anaya asked timidly.
Nick wasn’t sure if he registered a note of hesitancy in Anaya’s voice as she asked this.
“No.”
Anaya said nothing.
Nick felt that his answer was too abrasive and tried to back pedal an explanation. “I just mean it doesn’t make sense for you to disrupt your time with Mouse. What you’re doing for her by supporting her as she starts her new life is important. Enough people have failed that girl in the past, and I don’t want us to be added to that very long list.”
“She looks great! And the home is absolutely amazing.”
“That’s good to hear. I’m happy for her.”
Nick let the tension in his shoulders drop. He’d felt a subtle nervousness during Anaya’s trip and was content knowing that she had arrived safely. After his dealing with Khaled, Nick’s sense of security had been shattered. He saw firsthand the ease at which attacks could be carried out on the unsuspecting public.
“I’m going to let you go. As soon as I figure out how long I’m going to be staying here, I’ll call you.”
“I love you Nicholas Lawrence,” Anaya said.
“I love you too. Take care of our baby,” Nick said.
He hoped that Anaya hadn’t picked up on the confliction in his voice. Being back in Connecticut had brought forth a swell of emotions, and the tidal wave of devastation at Izzy’s passing had left him drowning in a sea of unanswered questions. He ended the phone call and rejoined Declan and Val in the living room.
“How’s she doing?” Val asked.
Nick noticed the subtle innuendo in the question and shot Declan a look. His friend and former Navy SEAL couldn’t manage to keep the secret of Anaya’s pregnancy for less than an hour.
“Wow, Fort Knox you are not, sir,” Nick said, shaking his head.
“Sorry brother, she knows all my secrets,” Declan said. He gave Nick a smirk and high fived his wife. “Home team.”
“The good, the bad, and everything in between,” Val said, reciting her mantra and tapping her can against her husband’s.
Nick shook his head and managed a half smile.
“She’s good. She arrived safely and is really excited to spend some time with Mouse.”
“Anaya’s really amazing,” Declan said. “Not many people in this world keep promises anymore. She went above and beyond to get Mouse to Michigan. That little girl is lucky to have you two in her life.”
Nick’s phone buzzed again. He looked down at it and didn’t recognize the number, but did recognize the Dallas area code. He dipped back into the kitchen and answered.
“Hello?” Nick asked.
“Is this Nicholas Lawrence?” a woman’s voice said.
“Yes. And it’s Nick.”
“Okay Nick. This is Cheryl Simmons. I work out of the Dallas field office. I’m investigating a case and need to speak to you regarding it,” Simmons said.
“Okay, go ahead,” Nick said. He made a conscious effort not to accidentally betray the information Jones had given him earlier.
“Not over the phone,” Simmons said bluntly.
“Well that’s going to be a bit of a challenge for me since I’m in Connecticut,” Nick said, annoyed.
“I’ve made arrangements to get you back here. You’re going to need to return immediately.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for a friend and agent who died today,” Nick responded.
“I know where you are and what you’re doing. It’s been cleared from the top down. You’re coming back, and it’s not up for further discussion.” Simmons spoke clearly, enunciating every syllable, but with no trace of emotion.
You know and you’re still telling me to come back? Nick thought. Either Simmons is the worst human being on the planet or this case is more complicated than Jones initially indicated.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Nick said trying to keep up a level of resistance.
“You’re scheduled on a 5:15 p.m. flight out of Bradley. I’ll send you the flight information,” Simmons said.
Nick looked down at his watch. It was 2:00 p.m.
“Jesus. Thanks for the heads up,” Nick said sarcastically. “That’s going to be cutting it close.”
“Then I’d suggest you hurry up,” Simmons said, returning the sardonic tone.
“Question. If you’re out of the Dallas office, why are you working an Austin murder?” Nick asked.
“I never said anything about the murder taking place in Austin. Sounds like you’ve got some friends out this way speaking out of turn,” Simmons said.
Shit. He realized she hadn’t said anything about the case facts and Nick just exposed himself. Exposed Jones. One thing was for certain, Agent Simmons didn’t miss much.
Nick waited for her to pry deeper.
“I’m currently working out of Dallas, but I go wherever a case takes me. I’m BAU.” Simmons said this last
statement with added affect.
Nick fumbled with a response as Simmons ended the call. He stared at phone and sighed heavily. He hadn’t worked much with the Behavioral Assessment Unit since entering the Bureau. He knew that only an extremely small number of agents were selected, and the chosen were held in high regard.
Declan walked in and opened the fridge to retrieve another libation. Nick noticed that one of the top shelves was held together with duct tape. Normally the sight of it would have prompted Nick to make a witty comment, but he was lost in thought.
“Ready for another round?” Declan said. He stood holding up two more cans of the Rocky Mountain classic, the blue of the mountains indicating their coldness.
“I can’t. I’ve got to run. I just got called back to Texas,” Nick said.
“I don’t understand. Your boss knows why you’re here?” Declan questioned.
“It’s one of those cases that apparently can’t wait.”
Nick looked at his watch again out of habit even though he’d just checked it less than a minute before.
“My flight leaves in three hours. Do you think you can shuttle me back to the airport?”
“Val’s not going to be happy that you’re leaving so soon,” Declan said, returning the cans to the packed interior shelf of the fridge.
“I know. Hopefully, I can make it back for the funeral. Although, I’m not a real fan of ’em,” Nick said.
“Me neither. I’ve got more friends in the ground than above these days. Sadly, your ugly ass is one of the few still left standing,” Declan said.
Nick chuckled softly. It felt strange to laugh at anything on this day, but the release felt good and he was grateful for his friend’s sense of humor.
“It’s not for lack of trying, but I guess I’m unkillable.” Nick ran a hand over the scar on the left side of his stomach where he’d been impaled by a knife less than a year ago.
“But I guess both of our survivability just went down a bit,” Declan said.
“How so?”
“Without Izzy around to save our butts we’ve got to be more careful. I for one think we should invest in extra body armor, but with our finances I’ll probably have to settle for bubble wrap.”
The Rabbit's Hole Page 5