by M. M. Silva
Colin glanced up at the corners of the walls. “You have video surveillance,” he stated.
She nodded and continued on in her stilted speech. “I do. My business has video. They are kept on file in weekly increments. As I said, you will need a warrant if you want to see the videos.” With that, she turned and walked back up the endless staircase, presumably to her office area.
“It’s never easy,” Colin muttered, whipping out his cell phone and poking a speed-dial button. He paced the length of the entire place while waiting for the other party to respond. I heard only snippets of what he said, but it was clear he wanted the warrant he’d ordered less than an hour ago, and he wanted it yesterday. His side of the conversation became clearer as he came closer to the bar. “…get the self-satisfied prick of a judge who plays golf with McClellan’s dad to quit feeding his fat face and sign one. Or try to find Stevie and see if his wife can get ahold of her sister who’s married to that guy who became a judge last year. Just pull in some type of favor, for God’s sake. We’re running out of time here, and it’s your ass if we lose this girl.” He clicked his phone off and ran his hand down his face.
I proceeded with caution. “Should I even ask?”
“I’m not leaving until we get that warrant,” Colin insisted. “She was that friggin’ close…” he said, holding his thumb and forefinger together. “That close.”
“You folks want a drink?” Liam asked good-naturedly.
“Seems like a good idea to me,” I chirped and sensed the steam coming off Colin before I could finish the sentence. “What? I walked five entire kilometers today.”
Colin rolled his eyes and settled on a stool beside me. “Ginger ale for me, Liam.”
“And for the lady?”
“Diet Coke,” I muttered and curled my lip at Colin.
Halfway through my caffeinated drink, Colin’s phone chirped and he squinted at the screen. “Hot damn! Joey and McClellan came through for us. It looks like it’s for the video equipment only.”
“Not enough evidence to search the entire place?” I asked.
“Exactly. But the video’s a start.” He punched keys on his fossilized phone. “Shit! I can’t read the attachment at all. It’s too small.”
I looked at Liam. “Does Meow have a fax machine up there?”
“That she does, but I don’t know the number.”
Colin hopped off his bar stool and sauntered over to the staircase where Meow had disappeared earlier. Better him than me. No way would I make it up the endless number of stairs now that my legs were locking up after my morning trek.
After a few moments, I heard Colin pound on a door upstairs, announcing to Meow he needed the fax number for her office. After a few more moments, Colin’s footsteps thundered back down the staircase.
“She wouldn’t let me in,” he said, irritation coloring his voice. “She gave me the number through her closed door. She’s doing something up there, and it better not be destroying evidence.”
CHAPTER 36
I WATCHED HIM STEW. “SO WHAT NOW?”
“Well, I can’t force my way into her office, but when that fax arrives, she’s the only one who can retrieve it. So that’s an issue. Also, I’m not the best with all the techy stuff involved with the video surveillance. I’ve asked for one of the guys from downtown to get over here, but it’s going to be a while. You probably suck with electronic equipment and computers, yes?”
“I do my bills online and can manage email just fine,” I said. “That’s the extent of my computer prowess. But I’ve got a whiz-like-no-other who can be here in less than ten.”
“Is he expensive?” Colin asked. “I don’t know if I can get it approved—”
“I pay him in Frito’s,” I said with a smile and speed-dialed Doob’s number while watching confusion cross Colin’s face.
While I spoke with Doob, a few workers shuffled in. The bar would be opening soon, unless Burns decided to shut it down. Colin ended a phone call of his own, and I watched as he corralled three of the employees.
He turned to me. “Is your guy on the way?”
“As it so happens, he was on his way over here anyway. He knew I would need a ride home at some point, and he’ll be here in about two minutes. What’s going on with these guys?” I gestured my chin to the assembled workers.
“I’m going to talk to each of them separately,” he replied. “And I just got word the fax is being sent. I need you to go up and get it as well as tell Meow we’re going to start reviewing the videos and will be speaking with her employees. She can stay up there; I’d actually prefer it. But I’ll extend her the courtesy of observing the video review if she wants to.”
A slight smirk formed on Colin’s lips.
“Something amusing you, Detective?”
“Yeah. I just realized you can’t make it up and down those stairs on a good day, Maloney. Ten bucks says we’ll need to install an escalator to get you back down; or maybe I could have a chopper land on the roof to pick you up.”
I couldn’t really argue but wrinkled my nose at him anyway. “I’ll be just fine.” No, I absolutely wouldn’t.
Doob walked in at that particular moment, and we brought him up to speed.
“You wouldn’t want to go up there for me, would you?” I asked, batting my lashes in exaggerated fashion.
“Not a chance.” He chuckled. “That lady doesn’t even know me. If you’d been doing the treadmill religiously, this wouldn’t be a problem. Text me when you get halfway and let me know if you need oxygen.” He glanced at his phone. “I’ll expect to hear from you in about two hours,” he said and walked away, giggling as he left.
I slowly shuffled to the stairwell and then looked back to see Burns already questioning one of the workers and Doob getting a soda from Liam. “If I die of exhaustion, it’s on you two jackasses,” I muttered under my breath.
CHAPTER 37
GAZING UP THE ENDLESS STAIRWELL, MY LEGS SCREAMED UP TO my brain not to do it, and my brain couldn’t think of a good reason to turn them down. I couldn’t help but think of Charlie’s body that Jeff had walked in on earlier in the month. Shuddering, I dismissed it; thoughts like that wouldn’t help the situation.
Looking at what I estimated to be about forty stairs, I viewed it as follows: sometimes the anticipation of a dreaded event ends up worse than the event itself. For example, I hate bridal and baby showers. I know that makes me the devil as well as a tremendous asshole; I further know that makes me almost a man, but they’re a time-consuming pain in the ass. The only people who truly want to be there are the people who are getting the gifts. I’ve been to enough of those events that I know of what I speak. But to be fair, I’ve attended one or two showers that actually ended up being okay. We didn’t have to play stupid games, the gifts didn’t take two hours, and the mimosas made everything right with the world.
So I just needed to treat the staircase as such. This would be the mimosa staircase as opposed to the let’s-build-a-wedding-dress-out-of-fucking-toilet-paper staircase. That was my attitude when I lifted my leg to start the upward trek.
Sadly, the motivation from my little internal pep talk lasted for only the first three steps. This dreaded event created a whole new category of dreaded events. I hadn’t considered how locked up my hamstrings would be by the time I got about one-third of the way up. Nor had I realized it would be about seven hundred degrees, causing sweat to run down my butt crack before the halfway point. At the two-thirds point, I gave up and sat on a step to catch my breath. A bar full of liquid downstairs, and I hadn’t thought to grab a water or a soda.
After using the banister to pull myself up, I did the last segment of my journey at a snail’s pace and almost kissed the top step when I finally made it.
I would need that chopper to get back down after all.
After I gathered myself and caught my breath, I decided to enter with the element of surprise. To cover my ass, I knocked quietly and then quickly entered the dark room. From
what I could make out, it looked to be some type of apartment that had been transformed into an office space. A dim light came from somewhere toward the back, and I assumed Meow was in there. “Meow?” Flipping on the tiny flashlight app in my phone, I tiptoed in the direction of the faint glow.
I nearly jumped through my skin when I heard the fax machine ring in an adjacent room. Knowing I needed the arriving document, I pointed my beam of light toward the sound of the ring. Just as I got to the machine, I sensed movement to my left and assumed Meow was coming to get the fax as well.
I pointed my light in that direction and found myself face-to-face with Melanie.
CHAPTER 38
I SAW HER RIGHT LEG WIND UP AND JUMPED BACK JUST in time to avoid getting kicked in the stomach. Her foot connected with the fax machine, and she yelped. I doused my cell phone light, assuming she’d be less effective in the dark. Any weapon she had would also be less effective in the dark. I hoped.
Where the hell was Meow? Was she going to just let me get attacked?
And then I thought of Doobie and the others downstairs. If Melanie hurt or killed me and then got to them…well, that was something I wasn’t prepared to deal with. Swinging blindly where she’d just been, I hoped to connect with some part of her, but she’d obviously moved. Whirling and spinning like a crazy person, all I kept finding was air.
Get to the stairwell. I heard that voice in my head as clearly as if someone had announced it over a PA system. As evidenced in prior situations, I don’t always listen to the voice, but in this case I was in total agreement.
From the room I was in, I could see the light coming through the slightly open stairwell door and started racing to it, thankful the rooms were sparse so nothing would trip me.
But that’s when I felt it. The snap to the back of my left calf. The falling to the ground in disbelief. The instant, searing pain.
I’d been shot.
Adrenaline kicked in, and I tried to stand up, but my leg wouldn’t support me. Losing my balance, I toppled in a heap on the floor and wanted to whimper in pain, but that wasn’t an option. Knowing I had to get out, I started crawling toward the door, using my forearms and good leg to scuttle along. I couldn’t die up here with this maniac. I just couldn’t.
I knew Melanie was on my tail. In the darkness, she wouldn’t know I was flat on the ground, so I swung out wildly with my right arm. Jackpot. I connected with her leg and pulled on it until she fell over. Then I latched onto both her feet as if my life depended on it.
Because it probably did.
She kicked furiously, but my arms worked their way up her legs and wrapped around her waist. I was outmatched because of my leg, but I wasn’t going down without a fight. For once in my life, I was grateful to not be a dainty little thing. The height advantage went to her, but I had more pounds and more upper-body strength.
Game on, bitch.
I launched the loudest, longest scream I’ve ever let go in my life while I dragged her toward the stairwell. Bright spots danced in my field of vision as the pain seared through my leg, but I was going to tug her with me until my body gave out. Sensing where I was trying to pull her, she changed her tactic, and instead of resisting me, she went with it and dove over me with her upper body. We turned into a rolling, fighting, kicking, screaming ball, and before I knew it, the stairwell door was wide open and we were teetering at the top of the steps.
Lying on my side, I now had a great grip on her ponytail with one hand and my other arm had her in a pseudo-headlock. My Herculean strength had to be coming from sheer adrenaline, and there was no doubt I was going to run out of gas any second.
Not that she was going quietly. She reached back and clawed at my face, biting at whatever body part of mine she could get to. I wondered how much blood I was losing and started to panic, thinking I might pass out soon.
As Melanie and I see-sawed on the top landing, I got a quick glance down the stairwell and saw Doob appear at the bottom of the stairs. His mouth was in a perfect O, disbelief written all over his face. Doob to the rescue? Good God. Where the hell was Colin? Not that it mattered. If he’d been there, he wouldn’t have been able to shoot at us because he’d have a very good chance of hitting me instead of Melanie.
With my strength waning, it was decision time. I didn’t want to end up like poor Charlie in a heap at the bottom of the stairwell, but I had no choice.
“Doob, get Colin and get outta the way!” I yelled as I launched Melanie and myself down the steps. We stayed together in a ball for the first part of the fall, and then at some point, we disentangled. My head and neck banged into the wall and edges of several steps, and my body twisted in ways it wasn’t met to twist.
We gained momentum as we plummeted toward the lower level. The trip up might have been a doozy, but the descent was the true definition of “going to hell in a handbasket.” Every part of my body was mercilessly battered and bruised. A nail or something sharp in the wall sliced my arm during one of my somersaults, and I howled in agony.
Melanie hit the ground before me, the back of her head smacking the floor with a sickening thud. I landed on her lower body a split-second later, my face planted in her lap. Aware I was losing consciousness, I rolled off her and briefly caught a glimpse of Doob and Colin’s horrified expressions.
And then it all went black.
CHAPTER 39
Monday, November 11th
THE EVENING BEFORE WAS A GROGGY BLUR OF BLUE and red flashing lights, police, sirens, ambulances and EMTs. Just before I’d gone down for the count, I’d evidently murmured that Melanie had shot me in the leg. Colin had then frantically tried to find a gunshot, to no avail. Relieved I wasn’t bleeding to death, they just assumed I’d lost my marbles in the fall.
I’d come to as they were taking Melanie out on a stretcher and putting me on a stretcher of my own. Seeing the dark pool of liquid at the bottom of the stairs, I’d asked if she was dead and learned that she wasn’t. I’d then inquired if it was her blood or mine, and the EMT looked at me quizzically and responded I hadn’t lost any blood.
“But I was shot!” I’d insisted and had been rewarded with a smirk.
In the hospital a couple of hours later, I learned my Achilles had ruptured.
“I wasn’t shot? No bullet? No blood?” I asked, completely stunned.
The handsome doctor smiled at me. He had gelled, brown hair with some gray flecks on the side, and a set of killer olive-green eyes. He appeared to be built like a brick shithouse under that white coat as well. I’ve watched my share of “Grey’s Anatomy” and I know all about McDreamy and McSteamy. I immediately dubbed this fine-looking physician McGreeny. Yum.
“You seem a little upset about that,” he commented with some amusement in those eyes.
“Of…of course I’m not,” I stammered defensively, simultaneously flustered by his comment and his green-ness. “I don’t exactly want that on my résumé. But I can tell you something hit me in the back of the leg, and it took me down like a sack of potatoes. I didn’t imagine it.”
He nodded agreeably. “I’ve been in sports medicine for about eight years, and almost every time I’ve seen this injury, the patient said it felt like they’d been shot. Given the circumstances you were in, it sounds like you had legitimate reason to think so. It was an honest mistake.”
Embarrassment washed over me. God. “So this was what again? A tendon or something?”
He looked up at the ceiling for a second and then looked back down at me. “Your Achilles, yes.”
“My heel? Are you kidding me? I wasn’t jumping off a house or kicking a cement pole; I was just running for a door.”
McGreeny pursed his lips. “Do you happen to be a Red Sox fan?”
What in the world? I raised an eyebrow at him. “Uh…yes. And I’ll have no problem requesting a new doctor if you’re a Yankees lover.”
He smiled to reveal some perfect white teeth, and it made the corner of his dark green eyes crinkle. Oh my. Eight years i
n sports medicine? Is that what he said? So how old did that make him? Too old or too young? Or just right. Get a grip, Meagan. You’ve seen hotties before, no big deal.
“I asked if you were a Sox fan, because there was a player several years back named Gabe Kapler. You remember him?”
“Of course! Gabe the Babe. He was another hottie.”
Oh fuck!
“I mean, uh…he was a hottie. Because if he was another hottie, then that would mean that there was a first hottie, and ummm…”
McGreeny let my sentence fade, so the word awkward doesn’t adequately cover the weird quiet that suddenly blanketed the room. I willed myself invisible.
Finally, he spoke. “Yes, I believe the ladies were fond of Mr. Kapler. He was rounding second base in a game, and he sort of tripped and went down just as you described. He was an athlete in peak physical condition, and this thing took him down hard. Ended his season in 2005. I don’t think he was back until the following June.”
“I remember that!” I said excitedly. “Tony Graffanino hit a home run, and he was running behind Kapler when he went down. They weren’t sure what to do since Kapler couldn’t finish running the bases.”
McGreeny’s face lit up, and I couldn’t have been happier if he’d come over and ruffled my hair. “Exactly right, you are a fan. All kinds of major athletes have had this injury, so you’re in good company, and you definitely didn’t imagine it.”
We grinned at each other for a second, but then a thought struck me. “This trip down Sox memory lane is great, but what I heard you say loud and clear is that Gabe didn’t get back to baseball until the following June. I believe his injury happened in September or thereabouts?”
McGreeny nodded as his mouth formed a thin line. “That’s correct. So let’s get down to it. This is not a quick or easy recovery, Meagan. There are two routes you can take, and they’re both a long process. One is surgical, and the other is not.”