Web of Deceit

by Peggy Slocum

  Impatient, Beth asks, “So, I need to write all of the denominations on this two-inch line?”

  “Yes, that would work too,” Edwin says. He smiles and his eyes sparkle.

  Beth regards Edwin. Sarah would be proud of her dad.

  “Excuse me,” the nurse from the desk interrupts. “There is a policeman here that needs to file a report of the accident.”

  “Why don’t you hand me the clipboard?” Elizabeth says. “I’ll finish filling this out.”

  “Thanks. We’ll come back when we are finished with the paperwork,” Beth says.

  An hour later, another nurse comes through the double doors. “Mr. and Mrs. Perkins?”

  “Yes,” they reply, standing up.

  “Your daughter is in her room now. Follow me, please.”

  At the door to Sarah’s room, they are greeted by the head nurse. “This room isn’t available to the public; however, the other rooms aren’t equipped. Can the other nurses visit your daughter on their breaks?”

  “Yes, of course,” Elizabeth answers.

  “Apparently, she has had quite an effect on several of their lives. The nurse on duty will be in soon.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Yes, we appreciate everything,” Edwin agrees.

  With a pasted-on smile, the head nurse finishes by saying, “You are very welcome,” and leaves.

  Inside the room there is a couch and two reclining chairs. The head of Sarah’s bed is surrounded by vitals monitors. Two IV bags are hanging from the drip stand. A whir of a metering pump blends with the beeps and clicks of the monitors. Edwin and Elizabeth both hold one of their daughter’s hands and begin to pray.

  Ten minutes later Elliot and Beth come in unnoticed and sit on the couch, giving Sarah’s parents a moment alone with her.

  As Edwin and Elizabeth finish praying, Beth draws close to Sarah’s bed. She gazes down at her friend and pulls her long blond hair away from her face. They did a good job cleaning her up. Poor Sarah, she’s still pretty bad though. “Please wake up,” she whispers as she bends down to kiss Sarah on her forehead.

  Elliot is now standing by Sarah opposite Beth. He gently touches Sarah’s hand. “Take care, kid.” He looks up at Beth. “You about ready?”

  “Yeah.”

  They hug Sarah’s parents good-bye, and Beth says, “Let me know if anything changes or you need something. We’re going to find who did this.”

  “Please be careful.” Elizabeth cautions them, knowing that Beth is serious.

  “We have one too many daughters in the hospital as it is,” Edwin says.

  Beth’s eyes water again as a gentle warmth fills her body. She gives them one last hug and heads for the door. They have always made her feel like their daughter. But for her to admit it might somehow betray her parents that she tragically lost so many years ago.

  Chapter 8: Lou’s Garage

  Minutes later, Beth and Elliot walk across the hospital’s windswept parking lot toward the Jeep.

  “Beth, you gonna be OK?” Elliot asks.

  Distracted from her thoughts, Beth answers, “Yeah, of course.” She pulls her knee-length, black, leather trench coat tight against her torso. This wind just won’t let up today.

  “You have a far away look on your face. A lot has been goin’ on. Maybe you should go home and get some rest.” Elliot opens the Jeep’s passenger door for her. “I’ll call you when I get some answers.”

  “That is not an option. I am coming with you. So, where to first?”

  “Howard called while you were talking to Sarah’s mom.” Elliot buckles in and turns the key. “He gave me two addresses.” He backs the Jeep up and drives toward the exit. “One might be the owner of the jack that was left behind.” Elliot makes a right toward the highway.

  “Excellent. So what’s your plan of attack?”

  “Howard said to try the one on Oldfield Street,” Elliot answers. “They’re new; they took over Sal’s old garage. He doesn’t know anything about ’em. I worked the neighborhood back in the day on the Force. I know where we can park close to the garage and check it out without being noticed.”

  “Finally, a little hope,” Beth says. “But what I don’t get is why these guys that took your tires would want Sarah?”

  “Me neither, but I guarantee they’ll wish they never involved Sarah,” Elliot says, making a promise.

  * * *

  “Perfect,” Beth says, pointing. “Park beside those hedges over there.”

  “Good eye,” Elliot agrees. “We can walk from there.”

  “Was it the wisest move doing this during daylight?” Beth whispers as they approach the old garage’s back lot.

  “If they’re not who we are looking for, then we ask ’em how much for an oil change.” Elliot tries to reassure Beth. “And if they are, we call Frank.” Elliot motions Beth to take the south side of the garage as he continues north.

  Beth runs up to the south wall and hugs it as she continues quietly toward the front. The sun has melted most of the newly fallen snow on this side of the building. Her heart is pounding hard and fast like a drum pulsating inside her head. She feels for her bottle of mace on the inside of her trench coat, just in case.

  Nearing the front, she smells the sweet, pungent odor of kerosene and motor oil. Smells like a garage. She peers around the corner. No one outside. She hears the sound of tools clanging and pneumatic wrenches coming from inside the garage. Maybe this isn’t the place. They’re making too much noise to be worried about being found.

  The garage is a two-story structure with an apartment on the second story. Hung over the ten-foot wide, steel garage door, a sign reads “Lou’s Garage.” She takes a step to move around to the front of the garage but freezes motionless a second later when she hears a latch click followed by the a door creaking open.

  Beth jumps back to the side of the building and presses herself flat against the gray brick wall. A metal door slams shut. Her heart races faster as she commands herself, Get it together. She glimpses around the corner again. This time she spies the backside of a man in blue coveralls ascending the grated stairs to the upstairs apartment. She notices a small window within reach. Standing on her toes, she peeks through it.

  A tireless, dark-blue van is jacked up in the center of the floor with an old black Dodge Ram 150 club cab parked next to it. A hand grabs her shoulder. Now what?! Stay cool, girl, keep it together. Beth starts to ask, “How much for a … ?” as she spins around, but instead blurts, “Elliot! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!”

  “I got a look at that guy’s face that just went upstairs,” Elliot whispers. “He was the driver that stole my tires.”

  “Of course. There’s a dark blue van without tires in there.”

  “I’ll bet the paint is still wet. You got your phone on you?”

  “It’s in the Jeep.”

  “OK, this is what we’ll do,” Elliot says. “Call Frank and have him set up a sandwich on the north and south of Oldfield on the block where Sal’s old place was.”

  Beth draws a blank. “A sandwich?”

  “He’ll know what I mean.” He tosses the keys to Beth. “Take the Jeep and be ready to come through the back and block ’em from running. Call me when it’s in play. I want to stay close and quiet.” Elliot switches his cell phone to silent mode as he runs toward a small hedge of unkempt shrubs, near the front of the building, disappearing from Beth’s sight.

  Beth takes off like lightening to the Jeep. Once inside, she reaches for her purse and pulls out the cell. She presses speed-dial two for Frank’s cell.

  Frank picks up after two rings. “Beth, what’s goin’ on?”

  “Elliot needs a sandwich on Oldfield. We’re on the block where Sal’s old place was. The target is the gray brick garage.”

  “When?”

  “Yesterday. Make it fast and quiet. Call me when you get here.”

  “OK, we can be there …”

  Beth ends the call.

 
She did it again. Frank grabs his radio’s handset to contact Chip and hits the siren. The cruiser accelerates quickly past double digits down I93 toward the south side.

  “Come on, Frank, it’s been fifteen minutes.” Beth groans aloud, glancing at her watch. Her phone rings. “Frank, where …?”

  Frank interrupts. “I’m right around the corner on the north side of the sandwich. Where are you at?”

  “I’m on the street behind the garage ready to cut them off if they turn out the alley.”

  “Are there any other exits besides that one?”

  “Not unless they go through a hedge fence or a house,”

  “Sweet. I’ve got a present I need to drop off with ya real quick, and we can get the party started.”

  “Make it fast, Elliot …”

  Frank cuts her off again. “Is this fast enough?”

  Beth eyes Frank in her rear view mirror, waving from his squad car.

  Frank pops open the trunk, goes to the back of the car, and pulls a couple things out. One is held in his hand and the other is a fourteen- by eighteen-inch, black molded case. Frank draws near to Beth, still sitting in the Jeep, and hands her a small police beacon. “Put this on your dash. Self-explanatory.”

  “Thanks, what’s that?” Beth points to the black case.

  “It’s a TDD.”

  “TBD? To be determined?”

  “I didn’t know you text. My kids do it all the time to get one by me. So, I checked out Wikipedia,” Frank says smiling with pride.

  “So … what does ‘to be determined’ have to do with the black case?”

  “No, T-D-D, Tire Deflation Device.” Frank chuckles.

  The corners of Beth’s mouth twist up. “Smooth.”

  “They should be stopped before they reach you.”

  Beth watches the six–foot, overweight man hurry to the alley and lay down the TDD. He kicks dirt on the spikes to hide them. He rushes back to his car waving at Beth and grinning. He loves his toys.

  Her phone rings. It’s Frank, “Y-e-s.”

  “Chip’s in position. As soon as I’m in sight, he’ll start moving. So, be prepared. Elliot’s got the front, right?”

  “Yeah, I’m calling him now.”

  Beth has the Jeep pointed at the alley with the engine running. Come on guys. Try to run. She grips the wheel and readies herself, focusing on the alley with a few icy patches and snow banked against the hedges, but easily passable.

  * * *

  As the cruisers close in from both ends, Elliot abandons his hiding spot and starts for the old garage. Fifteen feet before he reaches the overhead door, it starts to lift. Startled, he adjusts right to avoid whatever may be coming his way. The door is five feet open when the old, black Ram roars to life and thrusts through it.

  Glass shatters as the top of the truck’s windshield impacts against the bottom seal retainer of the overhead door. The seal retainer catches the roof of the cab where the glass has broken, lifting the front of the truck. The door gives as the momentum of the five-thousand-pound truck tears the door off its mounting brackets.

  Elliot dives to the ground and rolls to the side to avoid being crushed under the falling door. While two police cruisers closing in, lit up and sirens blaring, the truck engine roars and its tires break loose and slide through a cloud of dust, ice, and gravel. It escapes into the alley next to the garage.

  * * *

  Beth pushes the button on the police beacon. You messed with the wrong girl, gentlemen. She jams the gas pedal to the floor, accelerating straight into the alley toward the oncoming black pickup. You’ve got a house on one side and a hedge to the other. You’ve only got one choice, she thinks, then Bang! The black truck’s front tires blow and it swerves.

  By instinct, Beth flinches, but continues accelerating. She braces for the impact.

  Thrown off course by the TDD, the black truck misses the Grand Cherokee by inches.

  Beth, half disappointed she didn’t broadside the truck, locks the breaks, skidding to a stop.

  The truck crashes into the stone wall supporting the hedge.

  Beth twists her head sharply, keeping focus. The men, not giving up, jump out of the truck to take flight on foot. Ignoring her own safety, Beth throws the Jeep into reverse and backs down the alley past the fleeing men. She whirls the steering wheel hard left, sending the Jeep into a skid to the right. It works perfectly and closes the alley just long enough for Frank and Chip to close in from behind, with Elliot following at a full run. Beth throws her door open and runs toward the oncoming men.

  The three men pause, stunned by the determined five-foot-eight redhead charging them with only a can of mace in her hand.

  * * *

  A moment is all Frank needs to stop his car and jam the door open with his shoulder. His body ignores its physical condition, and, with unexpected speed, he is out of the seat, and standing. He levels his Smith and Wesson 357 at the men standing in awe of Beth who is charging them. “Don’t move!” Frank yells the command at the men ready to start fleeing again.

  Seconds later two more gun hammers click into position. Chip and Elliot are walking side by side with their weapons leveled at the frozen men.

  “Don’t shoot!” The youngest pleads as he raises his hands.

  “We’ll cooperate!” The other raises his hands as well.

  Frank yells to the remaining man. “You—join your pals! Get your hands up!”

  The oldest of the three men, with graying hair, puts his hands into his pockets. As the police close in steadily on his position, his eyes perceive Elliot flanking him. He considers his friends and calculates his remaining options.

  “Now!” Frank yells louder.

  In a weak voice, the youngest pleads to his resisting partner. “Raise your hands, man. It ain’t worth it.”

  “You disgust me,” the oldest answers. Without hesitation, he pulls a concealed .38 special from his right pocket.

  “No-o-o!” Beth screams in shock as her open-and-shut case slips from her grasp.

  With one, quick, fluid motion, the oldest man brings the gun to bear inches from the youngest man’s right temple and pulls the trigger.

  Bang!

  The oldest man’s gun recoils as the bullet exits the young victim’s left frontal lobe.

  Frank squeezes his trigger and the hammer drops, sealing the older man’s fate.

  Crack!

  Frank’s gun sounds as the round enters the old man’s chest, shattering a rib and piercing the left atrium of his heart.

  Machine like, the man ignores his fatal injury and catches himself from falling by planting his right foot in the dirt. His only purpose is to end the life of his remaining partner. His .38 drops no more than six inches as it travels toward his remaining target.

  Crack!

  Frank fires another round, striking the upper lobe of his target’s right lung and spinning him before catching sight of Elliot entering the kill zone.

  Elliot, already at a dead run before the gun was pulled from the assailant’s pocket, dives forward to tackle him. Elliot’s collision causes the assailant’s .38 to discharge as he buckles and collapses to the ground. Elliot rolls off the fallen murderer and confiscates the .38 special from his weakening grip.

  The fallen man breathes heavily, choking and trying to get a word out.

  “Nick?” the surviving accomplice says in shock, waiting for an explanation.

  Nick opens his mouth, struggling to clear his throat with each gasp of breath. His mouth overflows with blood as he clears his throat again. “I was being nice.” More blood gurgles up through his trachea and fills his mouth. Clearing his throat once more, he manages to say, “You’re already dead.” He hacks a mouth full of blood up and spits it out. “You’ll wish I did it.” A deep sadness comes over Nick’s face, and he stops fighting. Frank watches him welcome death by letting himself drown in his own blood.

  Fear and dismay overcome the lone survivor as he gapes at the dead bodies of his accomplices
.

  “I’ll call it in,” Chip says over his shoulder, as he jogs back to his car.

  * * *

  Standing close, Beth watches as Frank handcuffs the sudden mute, reads him the Miranda rights, and takes him to his squad car. A gnawing sadness eats away at Beth. They kidnapped Sarah for who knows what. So two people died. They brought it on themselves. All we need is, one, to find out what’s going on. Why do I … feel so awful inside?

  Elliot comes near to Beth who is leaning up against her Jeep and reaches for her long, auburn curls that are covering her bright green eyes and pushes them away from her face. “You all right, hon?”

  “Yeah, I’m OK,” she says, lying.

  Elliot leans against the Jeep next to her. “First time seeing something like this?”

  “Yeah,”

  “It’s OK. The shrink at the police force said those feelings are normal, and they make little pink pills for ’em,”

  “Oh really? How’s that working out for you?”

  “Why don’t you go check on Sarah and let her parents know we got ’em.” Elliot avoids the question.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Frank will send some investigators over, and we’ll go through the garage and apartment. I’ll let you know what we find.”

  “You sure?” Beth asks.

  “Yeah, I’ll either have them drop me off or I’ll call you when I’m done.”

  Beth stares at the ground and then upward at the sky, lost in thought. Hell? Heaven? Scary; wonder where those guys went? “OK, but keep me informed. I want to know what’s going on.” She gets in the Jeep and rolls the window down halfway.

  “I promise,” Elliot says. “Let me know how Sarah’s doin’.”

  “I will.”