by Olivia Rigal
Two men are walking in her direction.
As far as I can tell there's nothing special about them. Well, aside from the fact that they're walking.
They could be two friends out for a leisurely stroll on a pleasant night. It's possible but not likely. No one walks around here.
Chances are they are her contact and she's frozen in place because she's recognized someone.
Come on, baby, don't panic. You can do this.
I move the binoculars on her and study her expression. Surprise and shock are painted on her face as well as something else. Sadness? Disappointment?
She covers her mouth with her hand and blinks furiously as she opens the passenger door of her car.
"What the heck is she doing?" Stevens grumbles as we both watch her take the envelope out of her car and slam the door shut.
The fuck if I know ... and just as I think I understand, Kristal loses it. In a few seconds, I watch her return to the driver seat and start her car.
She's running. Why?
The car pulls out of the parking spot and Kristal drives away. Her speed remains low until she reaches the two men. Through a rolled down window, she calls out to them. Without giving them a chance to answer, she throws the package out at their feet and drives away.
One of the men picks it up.
He looks vaguely familiar but I can't put a name on his face. Where do I know him from?
Lost in my thoughts, I hear Stevens yell in his radio and all hell breaks loose. Our men run out of the truck toward the two suspects. They only hesitate for a few seconds before raising their hands in surrender.
One of them is still holding what Kristal threw out of the car. At least we have this one holding the drugs.
Stevens and I rush out of the building and only when I get closer to our catch of the day, do I recognize one of the two men.
Oh man, this sucks. It really does, but at least now, I understand what happened.
18
"John F. Russel," I mutter between clenched teeth.
Captain Stevens catches my arms and stops me before we get within hearing distance of the two men who are now kneeling on the pavement being cuffed.
"You're not getting anywhere near that guy," he hisses. His tone is clear. There's no room for discussion.
"Fine," I raise my hands in a surrendering gesture.
"You're not saying one single word to him, you hear?"
"I said, fine." What more does he want from me? My gaze moves from Kristal's father to his partner. Eduardo?
"You're not talking to his partner either."
I turn to face Captain Stevens and take a deep breath. Remembering he's cut me a lot of slack today, I ask. "Do you want me off the case?" He shakes his head and I breathe a sigh of relief. "So if I can't interrogate the two suspects, what do you want me to do?"
"Look for the third one," he says. "Find the one who got away."
It takes me a few seconds before I understand what he means. He's not talking about the biker look out; he's talking about Kristal.
I'm about to protest that she's not a suspect, but I close my mouth before any sounds comes out. This is not the place nor the moment to have this discussion.
I open my mouth again to ask how she could possibly have gotten away with all our patrol cars on the prowl nearby and then thought better of it.
Since I've run out of stupid ideas and useless questions to ask, I give him the only answer he wants to hear.
"Will do."
Stevens keep staring at me and frowns. He wants me gone now. All right, I get it. As I turn slowly to get my bike parked in the backyard of our hiding place, I catch a glimpse of his expression. He's rolling his eyes and shaking his head in a what-the-hell's-wrong-with-you? motion.
I'm glad he's keeping the question to himself ‘cause I'm not proud of the obvious answer. Where Kristal's concerned all my blood runs south. That could be why my brain is no longer getting enough oxygen to work properly.
So where to look for her? Her grandmother's house? The old woman is the only family she has around here. Actually it's her only family, period. 'Cause John Russel is no father. The bastard actually makes my old man look good, and God knows Cracker is not father of the year material.
Riding toward the Pink Flamingo community, I try to figure out where else Kristal could have run. If I know my Kristal well - yeah my Kristal - she won't want to give the old woman any trouble. With a son like hers, she sure must have had more than her share.
I rack my brains but come up empty. The only thing I can think of is her driving back to New York. After all, she lived there most of her life. There's safety in familiar places. Furthermore, she sure must have some friend there.
The middle age woman at the security gate is all business. The embroidery on her breast pocket identifies her as Marge, head of security. First her manners are as starched as her uniform. She's all formal as she checks my badge before answering any question.
Once she's studied it with her reading glasses, she returns it to me and checks the day log.
"Nope, ain't nobody who came for Mrs. Russel," she tells me. "And that's the only way in, Officer Hatcher." Before I have a chance to thank her or ask anything else, she continues. "Now mind you, that's only if you're talking about a visitor driving a car." While turning the pages of the gate logbook she explains what she means. "If you're looking for someone riding a bike, that would be different ‘cause there's a few trails that lead into the community." She stops and squints at a note and then looks at me again. "She didn't get any visitors since last week."
"Oh, really?"
Marge wants to tell me more but she hesitates to do so. On one hand, she probably wants to respect the privacy of Kristal's grandmother, but on the other, she's curious. I wait in silence hoping that this is one of those places that runs on gossip and that she won't be able to resist telling me what she knows, hoping that I will return the favor. She's dying to find out why the police are investigating the visits of one of her people.
"Okay, now normally we're not supposed to reveal any information to strangers," Marge says. I nod to indicate I understand how professional she is. "But since you're the police ..." I keep on nodding. If this continues, I'll turn into one of those Japanese cats in store windows. "Well, last week, for the first time, Margaret got a visit from her granddaughter."
With a conspiratorial look, I lean over in her direction. "You don't say."
That's the only prompt she needs to continue.
"In December, it will be twenty years I've been working here and you know what?" This is a rhetorical question so I just tilt my head to invite her to answer. "Well, in all those years, Margaret had never mentioned she had a granddaughter."
"Really?"
"Oh, yeah." It's Marge's turn to nod up and down. "Of course, if you knew her son you'd understand why she's real quiet about her family. Good thing we haven't seen him around here for a while."
A delivery truck pulls up behind me and this arrival kills the mood, and silences Marge.
I thank her and hand her my business card.
"If any one comes to visit her can you please give me a call?"
"Who should I keep an eye out for?" she asks. "Is it the girl? That would be a shame, but then again, you know what they say, the apples seldom fall far from the trees."
What should I answer to that? I need to give her something so that she will indeed call if Kristal ever shows up.
"Just between you and me, Marge," I whisper. "It's her son. He's in trouble again."
Standing a little taller as if my confiding in her had made her grow a few inches, Marge says, "Your secret's safe with me."
I give her a quick salute and turn to go.
Where to now?
The station, I guess.
Captain Stevens said I couldn't talk to Kristal's father but he never said I couldn't listen to what the man has to say.
19
As soon as I push the door of the division,
a blond tornado descends on me. Catherine pushes me back to the second floor landing and closes the door behind us.
"What are you doing here?" She's whispering and yelling at the same time.
"I work here, remember?"
I'm slightly exasperated but I don't show it. I paste an artificial smile on my face for the sake of my colleague. Catherine is a great working partner and there's no reason for me to make her pay for my frustrations of the day.
"Don't be an ass," she scolds. "Stevens made it clear that he doesn't want you here. Not at all." She shrugs. "Well, at least not before Kristal is found."
"Yeah, he sent me out to find her, but I've no idea where to look," I sadly admit. "I tried the only place that came to my mind and she wasn't there. I have no clue where she could have gone." I shrug. "She's no career criminal, so she'll pop up eventually."
Catherine frowns at me. "You don't get it, do you?"
Looks like there are a lot of things I'm not getting today. I have no clue what she's hinting at. She sighs and frowns, "You need to find her now. There's a contract on her head."
"A contract?" Fuck.
"If we don't find her first..." She leaves her sentence unfinished. No use to spell out the consequences, I understand them loud and clear.
"Chances are they're just like us with no idea where she's gone." I'm not sure that's entirely reassuring.
"Well, I wouldn't bet money on that 'cause her father's in on it. Maybe she's confided in him. He could know stuff you don't."
Fat chance. Just a few weeks ago, she didn't even know he was alive. She's never met him in person. It’s probable that I know her better than he does.
"Her father ordered the hit?" What sort of sick bastard is he? Who orders his own flesh and blood dead?
Catherine looks as horrified and disgusted as I am as she answers, "Yep, the sicko ordered it Monday. Didn't even give her the benefit of the doubt."
"So he think she's turned?" I am stating the obvious. Sometimes it helps to think out loud. I have to figure out how I can get her out of this mess. That is after I find her. "We need to find a way to convince them of the contrary."
Yeah, we do ‘cause even if we do lock up the two we caught tonight, the rest of the gang will want to make good on the contract, and she'll never be safe again.
"There is one way we could make her safe," Catherine says, leaning against the wall. I observe her and notice how tired she looks. It's been a rough week for everyone.
"The witness protection program?"
That could work. If what she has to say is interesting enough, she could get in after her testimony. The problem is I'm not sure she has enough to testify about.
The more I think about it, the more I realize that it would be the safest course of action, but I hate the idea.
Hate is not the right word. It's worse than that. The very thought of helping her vanish from my life makes me sick to my stomach. It's plain and simple, I don't want to let her go.
Catherine snaps her fingers several times in front of my face and scolds me, "No, you idiot. I meant something less drastic."
I frown. Really? What else? Now Catherine has indeed caught my undivided attention. "If Stevens is right, and you're crazy about the girl, it's what you need to do but you're not gonna like it at all."
Looking into Catherine's eyes I see nothing but compassion. She's still recovering from a broken heart. She never shared the details, but I know that her previous partner and her were an item and that it didn't end well.
"He's right," I confess. "I really care for the woman."
"Then you'll have to arrest her and send her away." Catherine speaks softly with the tone doctors adopt to announce the passing of a beloved parent. "The only way we can convince her father that she didn't sell him out is by making sure the D.A. doesn't give her too good a deal."
"She may have to do real time then."
As I say the words, I let the idea bounce around my head. At first I don't like it. Who would? But then it starts to grow on me. It sucks, but it has more appeal than the alternatives. If the only other choices are a coffin or a new identity, sending her to jail for a short period of time doesn't sound half bad. Of course, I realize that one's perception of time changes the second one's locked up, but if she got a reasonable offer, it could be doable.
"It's not my idea," Catherine says. "Captain Stevens came up with it. He's thinking they could give her a deal, something like six months to a year."
Fuck me, a year is a long time behind bars. I sigh and rub my neck. I'm way to tense to think properly.
"When interrogating our two guys, he's been dropping hints about us chasing after Kristal as if we thought of her as a dangerous criminal as well."
Smart thinking! I can trust Stevens for that sort of thing. If he decided to give Kristal a chance at a normal life, he'll go the whole nine yards.
I lean against the wall next to Catherine and we remain in companionable silence for a minute until she pushes herself away from the wall and stretches.
"I've got to get back to work and you, well, you have to get out of here and find the girl."
She opens the door, and turns around again, "Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, Pat called several times."
"Thanks." I have no time to deal with Styx business right now. Whatever it is, it will have to wait. My first order of business is to get back on the streets and find Kristal.
"She sounded real anxious to talk to you, but still she wouldn't leave a message."
Starting my way down the stairs and already trying to figure out what itinerary I should take to drive through the entire town in the most efficient fashion, I barely pay attention to the fact that Catherine is still speaking to me.
It's only when I reach the first floor and the reception hall of the station that a part of my brains decipher the last words I heard.
After her fifth call, Pat did leave a message, it's cryptic but it makes my day.
20
I can't help but smile as I climb on my bike again. I won't need to ride for hours around town to find my little bird. She's a homing pigeon and what do homing pigeon do? They return to the nest.
"Your guest has returned."
That's the message Pat gave to Catherine.
Four words. That's all it takes to flip my world around. The frustration I was fighting ever since Kristal drove away has evaporated. Its weight has lifted from my shoulders to be replaced with a fabulous jubilation.
Krystal did not run away.
She ran to me.
When her world shattered--when she realized that her father had betrayed her, that he had willingly made her drive around with drugs--she sought shelter in my home.
My heart swells with prides.
The trust she's demonstrating is heady.
It's giving me such a high, that for now, the only thing I want to do is show her how much this means to me.
How much time we have? I'm not sure. It will depend on what she decides, but right this instant, all my time is hers. I want to concentrate on us, to savor what we have.
Fuck, it could only be one more night before I have to let her go.
As soon as I arrive, I look around the parking lot searching for Kristal's car. It's nowhere to be seen. That's good. We don't want her to be visible.
I tuck away my bike under the awning as it starts to drizzle. I enter the Styx by the main door. Whatever is on the program for the day has not started yet. The only sound I hear is the soft jazz escaping from Pat's office, door left ajar. I knock and push it open.
Pat looks up from her computer, and with a motion of the hand, invites me to take the seat across from her. I simply wanted to check in and run upstairs but I'm guessing she has something to tell me.
She pulls out a glass and a bottle of scotch from the bottom drawer and sets them in front of me.
Whatever she has to say, it's not going to be pleasant.
I sit and decline the drink. It's way too early for me, and I want
to keep my head clear. The conversation that I need to have with Kristal will be delicate enough as it is. No use to make things harder with a clouded mind.
"As you wish," Pat says putting her bottle away. "Someone's put a price on this girl's head." Shit, how does she know that? "They almost got her, but she managed to lose them and find her way back here."
I shoot out of my seat ready to run up the stairs.
"Is she okay?"
"She's all shook up but not harmed. Daniel's watching over her, upstairs, in your crib." I notice the softness in her voice when she pronounces his name. Do I sound the same when I say Kristal?
"Thanks, I really appreciate this."
I'll have to find something special for her. Some way to express my gratitude better.
"Don't mention it," she says accompanying her words with a dismissive gesture of the hand. "You'll have to tell me what you want to do with her car. I'm guessing the crime lab may want to have a look at it."
I frown and ask, "What's wrong with her car?"
"Surprisingly not that much. I mean it's still running but she could be starting a new trend. It's spectacular looking, like a giant colander on wheels."
"She was shot at?" My blood freezes. Whoever did it is dead. I don't know when and I don't know how, but I'll find them and make sure they never terrify her or anyone else again.
"Go take care of your girl. If she's right and they didn't follow her up to here, the rest can wait ‘til morning."
Stopping at the door, I ask "But what if they did follow her and are waiting for back up?"
"Then we'll be fine as well," Pat answers. "I called up your brother and he's sent a team over. We have additional security for the evening."
"But ..."
"You didn't see them cause they parked their ride in the garage. We have two guys on the roof and Ice said that was enough to hold the fort."
And of course, my brother's right. This place was built and conceived to be our fortress. Two guys on the roof is all we need for discreet surveillance of the perimeter. Unless they come at us with a tank, the concrete walls and steel reinforced doors are enough to hold anyone out until reinforcement arrives.