A Matter of Time 03 - 04 (Volume 2) (MM)

by Mary Calmes

I tilted my head to the side so he could reach my neck, inhale me deeply.

  "James, I need to dance with your boy," somebody said.

  "No," he said coolly, hand on my thigh. "He's just here for decoration, not to touch."

  Minutes later, Steph and Bill rejoined us.

  "Rego, me and Billy gotta take Jory to see a friend—is it okay if we catch up with you in a couple hour? We'll meet you at your place."

  "Sounds good." He turned to look at me as he spoke to them. "Bring Jory with you."

  "Sure thing."

  The back of his fingers slid down my throat. "I wanna see you, so you better show."

  I said nothing because I didn't want to lie.

  "I want a number where I can reach you... and an address."

  "Gimme a pen." I said quickly, without hesitation.

  I gave him my cell number and the address of my favorite Chinese restaurant in Oak Park.

  "I want to see you in two hours, you understand?"

  What I understood was that I got to take Steph and Bill with me. It was all that mattered.

  Outside, Bill grabbed my arm before I could reach the curb to get us a cab.

  "What?"

  "Did you fuck him while I was sucking that guy off?"

  I shook my head.

  "I've never seen him wait."

  "I've never seen him have to," Steph shrugged. "We both fucked him when we met him."

  "I'll give you both a hundred if we can just go now." I sighed heavily. "Please."

  All argument instantly ceased and I was thrilled that we didn't have to talk about Rego James anymore.

  * * * *

  The ride to Oak Lawn took forty-five minutes, but as I stood with Bill and Steph in the parking lot of the strip mall, I felt like something had been accomplished. They had stolen the car from point B; I just needed to find point A. I needed a car to get around in and I had to get back and pick up my stuff from the hotel. It was time for the hard work to begin.

  I was surprised at how into the detective work Steph and Bill got, and on the ride back, they asked me all kinds of questions that I got to answer honestly, since I really didn't have any idea who had kidnapped me. Back at the hotel, Bill gave me the address of Rego's place and warned me not to blow the man off. If I valued my life, I would show up. I pretended to take it all very seriously and watched them cross the street, back to the liquor store, to buy their drugs.

  Ducking back into the hotel, I gathered up all my things, returned the keys, and walked out without the manager knowing anything about me at all. I made sure that Steph and Bill were nowhere to be seen when I caught a cab to the airport to rent a car. I had to get back to the strip mall as soon as I could and start looking for the man that had kidnapped me.

  Chapter Eight

  I called Caleb Reid because I had an idea.

  "Hello?"

  "Caleb? It's Jory, are you awake?"

  "I'm awake now," he grumbled. "For crissakes, J, do you know what time it is?"

  "No, but listen. Do you remember anything at all about the place we were kept?"

  "What? Why are you—"

  "I found the guys that stole the car with me in it."

  "What?"

  "The guys that stole the car? Remember? I found them."

  "Bullshit."

  "No, it's true."

  "You found those guys?"

  "Yeah."

  "Seriously? You did?"

  "Yeah, and they led me to Oak Lawn, but now I gotta try and find the—oh, wait... I just thought of something else. I'll call ya in the morning."

  "Jory, is Sam still in the hospital?"

  "Yeah."

  "Why aren't you at the hospital with him?"

  "'Cause I gotta figure this out."

  "Aren't you still kind of bruised up yourself? You had a concussion, you know."

  "That was a week ago, I'm fine now."

  "Jory, that was like two days ago. What are you doing?"

  "Sam got hurt."

  "I know he did. He's in the hospital, that's why I asked you why you weren't there."

  "But how did you—"

  "Dane called me and told me this whole thing wasn't over and that I should be careful."

  "You should."

  "So Jory, you—"

  "So I'm at the strip mall where the car was stolen and I'm gonna wait until they open and then I'm gonna take your picture around and ask people if they saw you."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Well, I was in the trunk of the car but you were in the front seat with the kidnappers, so you they might remember."

  "Jory, there was only one guy that I ever saw and I've looked at pictures until my eyes hurt and never found him."

  "Sure, but this is—"

  "And the sketch they made from what I said the guy looked like didn't come up with anything either. Don't you think if someone saw the sketch on the news or in the paper that they would have called the police and—"

  "I think they'll remember you and then that might jog someone's memory."

  "What picture do you even have of me?"

  "The ones from Dane's wedding. I have them all in my phone."

  "You're insane. It's not gonna work."

  "It'll work. I'll call you tomorrow."

  "Jor—"

  But I hung up on him and got comfortable in the car. No matter what he thought, it was worth it to walk from door to door and ask if anyone remembered seeing Caleb Reid.

  When Rego James called an hour later and asked me where I was, I explained about being on a stakeout. After fifteen minutes of me explaining things to him, he let out a quick breath and said I was the weirdest guy he'd ever met.

  It was probably true. I hung up, and when he called back I let it go to voicemail.

  I didn't realize that I had nodded off in the car until I jerked awake at four-twenty in the morning. I was freezing and I also had to pee. It turned out to be a mistake to leave the car. When I crossed the street to use the bathroom at the gas station, some guy was hitting a woman in the back. I had the attendant call the police as I went to intervene. The guy had her by the throat, and even though she was already bleeding from her lip and nose, he was going to punch her again. I was afraid if I went for his arm he'd still connect, so I stepped between them and took the hit.

  He had a ring that opened up my right eyebrow, and I felt like he had shattered my right cheekbone as well. I felt her fingers clawing for my jacket as she tried to pull me back, out of the way. All I could do was fight dirty since, compared to me, the man was a giant. My knee came up into his groin and when he doubled over, I used the hardest part of my body, my elbow, and drove down across the back of his neck, like Sam had taught me. He went facedown onto the asphalt as the woman grabbed me and hugged me tight. I held her until I heard the sirens, walked her to the attendant, and bolted back across the street. There was blood on my peacoat so I turned it inside out and lay down on top of it in the backseat.

  My face was throbbing and I still had to pee. Under the circumstances, staggering around the back of the building twenty minutes later was very undignified but extremely necessary. I fell asleep with the engine running, lights out, with the heater on.

  My phone woke me three hours later. When I sat up and looked at my face in the rearview mirror, I realized that it was encrusted in blood. I looked lovely.

  "Hello?" I groaned, getting out of the backseat and into the front.

  "Jory?"

  "Hey, Dane," I sighed, sitting down, tired and sore and hungry.

  "Jory, Sam's awake and he's asking for you."

  My stomach flipped over. "Oh yeah? How's he look?"

  "He looks good. Everyone's here except you. Why don't you come?"

  "'Cause I'm doing really good. I found the place where the guys jacked the car from and I'm here now. I'm gonna show Caleb's picture around and see what turns up."

  "Jory—"

  "Last night I had to talk this pimp into letting the guys hel
p me, and you should have seen me. I was scared but—"

  "A pimp? What are you talking about?"

  "This guy, Rego James, he owns a club down—"

  "Rego what?"

  "James. He—"

  "James? Rego James?"

  "Yeah, he—"

  "Wait, Sam's trying to say something... hold on."

  As I waited I turned off the car, got out, and looked around. There was a diner across the street on the other side and farther down a thrift store. I couldn't wear the peacoat with blood on it and I couldn't use my credit card. I had used the card I shared with Dane for the car rental, but I didn't want to chance that a second time. I had to eat and I had to wash my face. I needed a Band-Aid too, since my eyebrow felt like it was hanging open.

  "Jory."

  "Yeah? Who's this?" Not my brother.

  "Jory, this is Detective Hefron.... Jory, Rego James is a very dangerous guy. Please have no further contact with him and simply come back immediately."

  "But I got this far, Detective. I'm running down a lead."

  "Jory, just come back and I'll run it down. You don't know what you're—"

  "Gotta go, my eye's killing me."

  "Why? What'd you do to your eye?"

  "It's all busted open—shit, it hurts."

  "Jor—"

  And I hung up on him too. Didn't want them tracing the call, like in the movies.

  I ducked my head down and covered my face with my hand. It was funny that sometimes the smallest injuries, like paper cuts, hurt the most. The cut above my eyebrow hurt like crazy but it really wasn't that big. The scrape on my face, all the big, red bruises, looked really bad but didn't hurt as much as the cut. The waitress at the diner was very nice and got me hydrogen peroxide, Neosporin, and three small butterfly strips and one big one. I had it holding together well, and after I had a short stack of pancakes, bacon and three eggs, orange juice, and lots of coffee, I gave her a ten-dollar tip. She was appreciative, and I felt better. In the thrift store, looking for a new coat, my phone rang.

  "Jory."

  "Hey, Dane."

  "Jory buddy, you're killing Sam."

  "What?"

  "Sam's losing it, he needs to see you, make sure you're okay. This thing with this guy James... he's really agitated about that."

  "Well, tell him not to be, I didn't get raped or anything."

  There was a pause. "Raped?"

  "Yeah, he threatened to... forget it, don't tell Sam, that won't help."

  "Jory." He barely got my name out.

  "After I get a new coat I'll start taking the picture up and down the—"

  "What do you need a new coat for?"

  "There's blood all over my peacoat from that guy hitting me, and I don't wanna look like some homeless person when I talk to these people, so I'll call ya back after, okay?"

  "Who hit you?"

  Sometimes I talked like everyone knew what was going on even when they were joining a program that was already in progress. "Some guy, it doesn't matter."

  "Are you really hurt?"

  "No."

  "Jory, may I remind you that you have a concussion? No one should be hitting you or—"

  "I know. I didn't mean to get hit." Like I got hit on purpose.

  "Jory, I want you back here now."

  "Okay," I said and hung up.

  I found a parka that was a size too big for me but clean and in pretty good shape. It was thirty dollars, which the cashier said was really too much for it. Apparently most things in the store went for right around ten. I wore it out, shoving my peacoat in the plastic bag she gave me, and jogged back to my lovely rented Ford Taurus.

  I started at the florist and worked my way from one end of the strip mall to the other. I finally got lucky at the bowling alley. The guy remembered seeing Caleb go into the copy shop at the corner. I thanked him profusely and made that my next stop. The copy shop had mailboxes that you could rent and the lady there remembered Caleb because he looked like her first husband. I asked her if that was good or not and she said no, definitely not. It did however etch him into her brain. She was older, late sixties, and whether it was my smile, the fact I was hurt, or the fact that she liked the color of my eyes, I didn't know. Nevertheless, she sat there with me and tried to remember everything she could about the other man with Caleb Reid. Finally, after much searching through many small boxes filled with index cards, she found the card of the guy that had come with Caleb. His name was Greg Fain and his address was in Oak Lawn, three streets away. I asked to keep the card and gave her a fifty-dollar bill for her trouble. She gave me a pen and a key chain flashlight before I walked out.

  My phone rang as I was on my way to the house.

  "Jory."

  "I don't think we've ever talked this many times in one day, even when I worked for you," I told my brother. "What's with you?"

  "The fact that you have to ask is beyond me—where are you now?"

  "You'll never guess."

  "No, probably not."

  "I think I found the place where Caleb and I were kept and I'm on my way there now."

  "Are you kidding?"

  "No, why would I be kidding?"

  "Jory, please don't go there by yourself. Please, I'm begging you."

  "I have to, what else would I do?"

  "Tell me where you are so I can call the police. What if you disturb something or worse... what if there's somebody there.

  What if whoever's been watching you, trying to kill you, is there waiting. What if it's a trap, Jory? What if—"

  "It's not. Whoever was there is long gone. The lady at the mailbox place said she hasn't seen the guy in almost two weeks. I think he's dead, Dane. I think I was right and there were two guys and one guy's dead and maybe I'll find him out there and... oh, I think... I got it—I found it. Shit yeah, I should do this for a living. Jory Harcourt always gets his man."

  "Jory!"

  "Don't yell, my head hurts."

  "You know, I forget sometimes that you're not even thirty yet. You're stupid because you're damn young."

  "Please, the police never even got this far," I said, stopping the car, parking across the street, looking at the big gray house on the overgrown lot. "Shit... why does it have to look like that?"

  "Like what?"

  "All fuckin' creeped out," I groaned, looking at the rusted mailbox nailed shut, the fence with the Keep Out sign on it, the knee-high grass and weeds, and the boarded-up windows.

  "Shit."

  "Jory, goddamn it! Tell me where you are and I'll come myself and—"

  "Jory?"

  "Regina?" I said, getting out of the car and locking it with a chirp of the car alarm. "What are you doing on—"

  "Sweetheart, I took the phone from your brother. Can you listen for just one minute? Please."

  "Sure."

  There was rubbing against the phone, muffled sounds, and bumping, it sounded like she was driving through a tunnel even though I knew she wasn't even in a car. Throat clearing and coughing before the voice I knew.

  "Baby," he said, and his voice was rough, full of gravel.

  "Sam," I whispered, frozen on the sidewalk, the sting of tears instantly in my eyes. I was so happy to hear him.

  "Baby," he coughed softly. "I need you... I need to see your face."

  "I—"

  "You should be here right beside me, why aren't you?"

  "I gotta find the guy that hurt you, Sam. I can't let him ever hurt you—"

  "It's how I feel about you. Now you get it. Makes you nuts, right?"

  "Yeah."

  He knew exactly how to talk to me and I had to smile listening to him being so calm, so matter-of-fact. We were talking like nothing special was going on, just like of course I would be doing precisely what I was.

  "So you've been out there on your own what—six days?

  Seven? Since I got hurt?"

  "Yeah."

  "All by yourself for a week, huh?"

  "Yeah."

>   "And you found the place, huh? Good job—real good. Now call Hefron and Lange and they'll take it from there. You have no experience in securing a crime scene or what to touch or what not to touch. If you wanna catch this guy, you gotta leave the next step to the professionals, all right? Makes sense, right?"

  "I guess."

  "I know you wanna see, baby. I know you're dyin' to go in there but don't, please don't. Tell me where you are and I'll call them. You wait there for them and they'll bring you to me."

  "I'll call, Sam, but I'm not waiting here. I'm gonna see who else this guy knew. Other people have gotta remember him."

  "I need to see you," he coughed softly. "Did Rego James put his hands on you?"

  "Yeah, but I let him. I used him because I needed a couple of his boys to show me where the car was. He's kinda pissed at me right now, I think."

  "What did you let him do to you?"

  "I didn't kiss him."

  "I didn't think you would."

  "He just touched me, Sam, nothing else."

  "Well then, that makes it all better."

  "Sam—"

  "I want you back here now. I want you next to me now. I cannot believe that my family, your brother, all our friends, and an entire police force can't keep tabs on one twenty-six-year-old graphic designer who thinks he's fuckin' Batman."

  He was very funny. "I'll be there soon."

  "Now. Do not step a foot inside that house or... oh, never mind—we gotcha."

  "Shit," I swore and turned off my phone. Everyone else I could cut off but not Sam. I so wanted to go into the house, but I ended up calling Detective Hefron instead. I gave him the address and he told me that he was already halfway there on the strength of the phone trace. He ordered me not to move. I drove away as I heard the sirens.

  * * * *

  An hour later I was stopped before I could go into Sam's room by one of two uniformed police officers. I heard Dane call my name, and I peeked around the policemen to see him.

  "Officer, this is my brother, Detective Kage's... partner."

  They moved apart and I saw the whole room. Dane motioned for me, and as I stepped inside I saw that it was larger than normal and he wasn't sharing it with anyone else.

  Sam's parents were there and Chloe, his partner, and Detective Lange.

  "Jesus, Jory," Dane said, reaching for my face.