Vigilance

by Carolina Mac

  Blaine filled the Chief in on Perry Leighton’s house. “Lane thinks he hit him. Left arm, side, shoulder.”

  “Hope to hell he did. Slow the miserable fucker down.”

  “He won’t go for medical,” said Blaine, “but he might go to his brother.”

  “I’ll put a patrol on the brother’s house,” said the Chief.

  BLOOD GUSHED out of Ewing’s arm. The first bullet caught him just above the elbow and the second shot grazed his side. He could feel the burn above his hip bone. The asshole had hit him twice while he was running full out. A damn good shooter.

  Ewing steered the Lexus with his right hand heading for Lou’s house in the north end of the city. Lou wouldn’t be happy to see him, but he didn’t give a shit. Mattie would have bandages, and if she didn’t, she could go get them. She’d know how to fix him up. She was a nurse.

  BLAINE opened Farrell’s door and woke his foster brother. “We gotta go.”

  “Go where? Don’t we get to sleep anymore?”

  “No, we don’t sleep until the asshole is dead. He’s been busy. Just tossed two bottle bombs. One at Calhoun and his house is on fire—at least his living room is—and one at Leighton’s. Lane shot him.”

  “Good. Hope he’s dead.” Farrell struggled with the duvet, got his long legs free and sat on the side of the bed.

  “Not dead,” said Blaine. “Drove away.”

  “He’ll go to Lou’s house.” Farrell’s voice was rough and dry in the middle of the night. “Thompson’s ex is a nurse.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Farrell headed for the bathroom. “I know.”

  “While you get dressed, I’ll make coffee and fill a couple of travelers.”

  EWING’s vision was blurring and his head swam a little as he pulled into Lou’s driveway. He turned off the engine of the unfamiliar Lexus, staggered out of the car and puked in the grass at the side of the garage. He shuffled around to the back door and pounded on it. Thinking he was too close to blacking out, he leaned on the door frame and hollered, “Hurry up and open the fucking door.”

  A few minutes ticked by as he leaned with his eyes closed, trying to hold on. Then Mattie opened the door a crack to see who it was. “Ew, what happened? Are you hurt?”

  “Yeah,” his voice came out in a whisper, “I need you, baby. Can you fix me up?”

  She opened the door wide and took his good arm. “Maybe I can. You’re a mess. Look at all that blood. Let’s go in the bathroom and I’ll clean you up.”

  “Thanks, baby. Where’s Lou?”

  “Not home from the club yet.”

  “Why not? It’s late.”

  “He had an after-hours gig for extra money.”

  Ewing sat on the toilet lid and groaned like a six-year-old while Mattie removed his jacket and then his blood-soaked shirt.

  “Jeeze, Ew, who shot you?” Mattie took her time cleaning the wounds with warm water, so she could see what she was dealing with.

  “Some asshole twice my size.”

  “I’ll have to put pressure on this one in your arm to get the bleeding stopped.”

  “Sure. Do whatever.” Ewing closed his eyes and clamped his teeth together.

  A good ten minutes passed before Mattie was satisfied that the bleeding had slowed. “Sit there until I get my kit from the bedroom. I’m going to put some stitches in.”

  “Thanks, baby. I love you. You know that.”

  “Sometimes you act so mean I don’t believe it.”

  “I’ll do better. I swear it.”

  “I’m not leaving Lou no matter what you say, Ewing. You can forget that.” Mattie left the bathroom for a couple of minutes and returned with her kit.

  “Umm… I don’t have any freezing here. I’ll get you some liquor. Hold on.” She was back in a flash with a half bottle of Texas bourbon. She unscrewed the top and offered it to Ewing. “Take a big gulp of this before I start.”

  Ewing grinned as he took the bottle. “My night is getting better and better.”

  “Are you going to tell me why you got shot?”

  “Some idiot doing a drive-by downtown. I was minding my own.”

  “Why don’t I believe that?” Mattie put the first stitch in and Ewing winced.

  Five minutes and two more shots of bourbon and she was finished. She bandaged both wounds like the professional she was, then taped them snugly.

  Ewing stood up and looked in the mirror over the vanity. “Beautiful work, baby. Let’s go.”

  “I’m not going, Ew. I told you, I’m staying with Lou. He loves me and treats me so nice. He’ll be home any second and I’m going back to bed.”

  “I want you to come with me,” said Ewing. “I got the money, baby. All of it, and I’m almost ready to leave this shitty town.” He pulled Mattie close with his right arm and kissed her.

  She pulled away and shook her head. “Don’t do this, Ew.”

  “Come on, Mattie. Come with me. At least come to my hotel and stay the night.”

  “Nope, I’m not getting suckered into one of your little traps ever again. I’ve learned my lesson.” She turned and took a stance, hands on hips, “Do you know how many hours they held me in that interrogation room after you were arrested? Do you know or even care how scared I was?”

  “Would a hundred thousand make you feel better, baby?”

  Mattie’s eyes widened. “A hundred thousand? Lou and I could use that money.”

  “Come on then. I’ve got to get going. I’ll get the money out of the hotel safe and give it to you. No strings. Then I’m splitting. You can come or not come after you get your money. I’ll let you decide.”

  “Wait until I get some clothes on.”

  “Make it fast, baby.”

  I always could talk her into anything.

  Ewing smoked in the Lexus while he waited, but she was quick and came out a couple minutes later, dressed and carrying a tote bag over her arm.

  “I should drive,” she said.

  Ewing ignored her and backed out of the driveway. “I’m okay, baby. You worry too much.”

  “I left Lou a note.”

  “Shit,” hollered Ewing, “what did you say?”

  “The truth. Ewing is hurt. I went to help him. Back tomorrow.”

  “Okay. Good enough.”

  BLAINE AND FARRELL parked behind Lou’s truck and jogged to the front door.

  “No Lexus,” said Farrell. “Maybe he’s been here already.”

  Blaine rang the bell and Lou jerked the door open, his face flushed. “What the hell do the cops want now?”

  “Your brother is wounded, and we figured he’d come here for Mattie to clean him up.”

  Lou opened the door a little wider. “He was here and now they’re both gone.”

  “She went with him?”

  Lou blew out a breath. “I’m freaking out. She left a note and she’s gonna get herself fuckin killed. I know it.”

  “What’s the note say?” asked Farrell.

  “None of your fuckin business.” Lou shoved the crumpled piece of paper into the pocket of his ripped jeans.

  “Do you want her back or not?” asked Blaine. “We can help you.”

  “Don’t need help from the cops. I can handle my brother.”

  “Where is he? Which hotel?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “We’ll follow you,” said Farrell, “so you might as well cough up the location.”

  “Follow me where? I’m not going any place. You think if I knew where Mattie was I’d be standing here talking to you?”

  “Maybe not,” said Farrell.

  Lou tore at his long hair. “I haven’t got a clue where they are.”

  EWING and Mattie walked together slowly across the lobby of the Hilton, arm in arm, Mattie supporting a lot of Ewing’s weight. Weakened by blood loss, he wanted nothing more than a bed to lie down on.

  “Which floor,” she asked as the elevator doors closed.

  “Fourteen.” He leaned
against the back wall and closed his eyes.

  The bell rang, and the doors opened on fourteen. Ewing didn’t move, and Mattie held the door. “Come on, Ew. Which way is your room?”

  “Left.”

  She reached for him and the doors started to close. She pressed ‘doors open’ then slipped her arm around his waist and helped him out of the elevator. “We’ve got to get you to a bed, so you can lie down.”

  Ewing groaned as he took the first step. He leaned on the wall in the corridor to catch his breath and he’d only gone about six feet.

  “Give me the key card,” said Mattie. “I don’t know where to take you.”

  “Pocket.”

  Mattie stuck her hand in his pocket. Wallet and plastic card. She pulled the card out and read the number. “Fourteen twenty-four. Come on. You can do it.”

  After three more stops for Ewing to rest they reached the door of the room. Luckily nobody was roaming the halls that early in the morning. Mattie stuck the card in, got the green light and opened the door.

  Ewing flopped onto the first bed he came to and closed his eyes.

  “Don’t pass out yet,” said Mattie. “I want my money.”

  “I need sleep,” Ewing mumbled without opening his eyes.

  “Tell me the combination.”

  “Nope.”

  “Tell me, Ew. You promised me.”

  “I lied.”

  MATTIE opened the outer door of the little safe and stared at the keypad. Why did I believe him? I swore I’d never listen to him ever again.

  What would he use for a combination?

  She tried both their birthdays and it was neither, then she tried the day they met, and the green light came on. She opened the door and couldn’t believe how much money was stuffed into the hotel safe. Packed full. She filled her tote bag, then looked in the closet for something else she could use and there was an empty duffel.

  Ewing moaned and mumbled on the bed and she thought he was telling her to leave the money alone, but she ignored him and kept taking more.

  “All the years I waited for this money while you were in Huntsville. Half of its mine, and you owe me the other half in suffering and in interest.”

  Mattie kept her eye on Ewing as she finished emptying the safe and zipped up the bag. He wasn’t moving at all. Either sleeping or he’d passed out.

  She fished in her tote bag, pulled out a syringe and walked over to the bed. Smiling down at Ewing, she stuck the needle in his arm and pushed the plunger. “This will help you sleep.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Still Friday the 13th.

  BLAINE and Farrell didn’t bother going back to bed. It was six a.m. when they returned to the Agency from Lou Thompson’s house and there was no point. Carm was up looking bright and rested and fresh coffee was made.

  Farrell slumped down at the table with a loud groan. “We showed his picture to all those airport hotels yesterday and nobody flinched. We gonna do any better today?”

  “We have to,” said Blaine. “He’s got a hostage now.”

  “Shit. Maybe she went voluntarily. She used to be his squeeze.”

  “Lou doesn’t think it was voluntary.”

  “Maybe Lou don’t know his woman as well as he thinks.”

  “He seemed pretty upset that she was gone.”

  “According to the file, the cops always thought she did a lot of the planning and was Ewing’s partner in the robberies,” said Farrell, “but they had no evidence that she helped him or participated.”

  Blaine raised an eyebrow. “You had time to read the file?”

  Farrell shrugged. “Guess so.”

  “Was she questioned after each robbery?”

  “For hours on end,” said Farrell, “and she never gave up anything.

  “And they couldn’t connect her enough to charge her? Well, she’s helping him now and he’s a fugitive. We can pull her in for that.”

  “Only if we find her.”

  WARD INGRAM staggered out of bed. He’d had a brutal night at the poker room the night before and drank way too much booze trying to put his gigantic losses out of his mind.

  He stuck his head in the spare bedroom looking for Celia and the bed wasn’t slept in. She’d moved out of the master suite after their last argument and said her next move would be out of the condo for good, if Ward didn’t get it together and pay the bills.

  How could he catch up on the mortgage and the bills? He’d never get out of the hole he was in.

  “We’re going to lose the goddam condo. I have to tell her.” He shuffled to the kitchen expecting her to be sitting at the table drinking coffee and doing crosswords like she always was, but there was no Celia and no coffee.

  “Where the hell is she?” Ward hollered out loud to no one in particular. “Did the bitch leave me already?” Ward raced back into the bedroom, grabbed his cell and pressed Celia’s number.

  It rang two or three times before she answered in a sleepy voice. “Hi, Ward.”

  “Where are you, honey?” Ward used his best sugary tone.

  “I’m running one of the trails in Zilker Park. Be back in an hour.”

  Ward let out a breath. “Okay. I thought… never mind what I thought. I love you.”

  CELIA reached over, put her cell back on the nightstand and cuddled up closer to Bartley.

  AT THE EIGHT a.m. breakfast meeting, Blaine organized the second hotel search for Ewing Thompson. “Show the clerk at the front desk the picture again, and this time ask if they’ve seen anybody looking like Thompson with a dark-haired girl.” To Farrell: “How old would Mattie Larch be?”

  “Late thirties.”

  “Okay, and don’t forget to mention Thompson’s hair might be lighter than in the picture—the witnesses used the ‘blond’ word—and point out that he’s wounded and may have a bandage on his left arm.”

  Fletch was writing points in his notebook.

  “Where’s Lane?” asked Pablo.

  “Sleeping for now. He’ll be in later,” said Blaine. “This morning, Farrell and Fletch will go together, Lily go with Pablo.”

  Pablo raised a black brow but didn’t say anything. He was a quiet one.

  Blaine smiled at Pablo. “Lil’s got your back, amigo. No worries.”

  Lily winked at Pablo.

  Farrell asked the question he asked every morning. “What will you be doing, boss?”

  “I’ll be taking a look at the Chief’s fucked up house, then updating the DA at the safe-house.”

  “That it?” asked Farrell with a smirk.

  “Get out of here.”

  CHIEF CALHOUN’S HOUSE was a shambles at the front. He and his wife had moved into a downtown hotel for the time being, although portions of the house were untouched, the smell alone was enough to drive them out. The stink of burnt textiles, fried electrics and water soaked wood hung on the air outside and was probably ten times worse inside.

  The front portion of the house where the bomb exploded, had been destroyed by fire. The Chief’s living room furniture, what was left of it, was blackened and water soaked and sitting in a pile on the driveway. A huge tarp hung down from the roof and covered what used to be the front entrance and the living room window.

  A couple of construction vans were parked in the drive and a work crew milled around clearing rubble. They had days of work ahead of them before they could get started on the repairs.

  Is this worth fixing?

  Blaine jumped into his truck parked at the curb and pulled away as a flatbed arrived delivering two huge yellow dumpsters.

  The Chief didn’t deserve this.

  FROM the Chief’s house, Blaine drove to the north end of the city where the safe-house was located. Travis greeted him at the door and offered him a coffee.

  He sat down at the kitchen table with Travis and Perry Leighton and brought them up to date on everything they’d missed.

  “If Thompson is badly wounded,” said Leighton, “I should be able to go home. The threat has be
en diminished.”

  “Diminished to a degree,” said Blaine, “but we don’t know how bad off he is or how fast he’ll recover.”

  “If it’s only a flesh wound,” said Travis, “might not slow him down much.”

  “Just the same, I’d rather go home and I’m sure my wife would as well. We’ll be perfectly safe with Major Bristol on the job.”

  “I’ve got a crew searching the hotels for him again this morning,” said Blaine. “They’re armed with more detailed information today, and we should find him soon.”

  MATTIE parked the rented Lexus behind Lou’s truck and ran into the house with her tote bag in one hand and the duffel in the other.

  Lou opened the door, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep and his long hair in a tangle. “You were gone so long, I thought something happened to you.” He grabbed her in a hug and kicked the door closed with his boot.

  “Nothing to worry about, Lou. You should have gone to bed.”

  “How could I go to bed, Mattie? I wouldn’t sleep thinking you might get murdered by my insane brother.”

  Mattie smiled. “I didn’t have a problem.”

  “You made me crazy going with him. How did you get away?”

  “I gave him a shot when he was half out of it.” She plunked both bags on the kitchen table. “He won’t wake up for hours.” She unzipped the duffel and showed Lou the cash.

  “Wow. He’s gonna kill us when he finds out you took the money.”

  “If he doesn’t die first,” said Mattie. “As soon as the banks are open, like an hour from now, I’ll open three or four accounts and get rid of it.”

  “Do you think that’s the smart thing to do?” Lou rinsed the carafe and started a pot of coffee.

  “Can you think of something else?” asked Mattie.

  “Not at the moment other than off-shore, but I don’t know anything about it or have a single clue how to do it.”

  “We’ll find out from an expert and transfer it later,” said Mattie. “The cops will find him soon and kill him. He won’t care if we have the money if he’s dead.”