by S. E. Smith
She smiled faintly at the worry in his eyes. “After Max is taken care of,” she replied as she watched the flashing lights speeding down the street.
“When you say ‘officer down,’ that gets a quick response,” Max tried to joke.
Angela caressed Max’s face. “Yes, it does,” she tenderly said.
Not only fast, but a considerable one, as well, Tonya thought when she counted at least ten patrol cars along with an ambulance and a fire truck. Police officers poured out of the vehicles. Some spread out with guns drawn, and some stood on alert and at the ready. Tonya recognized most of them, including the three running up the front walkway.
Max and Angela’s neighbors, who had stayed in their homes when they heard the gunfire, were now standing along the sidewalk and gawking at the activity. Tonya doubted any of them would be of much use. The car had been dark as well as the street. Even the houses with outdoor cameras would be hard-pressed to get a good video of the attack.
“Max, who the hell did you piss off this time?” the policeman striding up the walkway demanded in a concerned voice.
“Conrad,” Angela chided.
“Not as many as you, I guarantee,” Max gruffly retorted.
Three paramedics rushed forward to Max. Tonya stepped back to give them room. She swayed as shock began to set in. She held her arm when it started throbbing.
“Tonya was struck as well,” Ashure told one of the paramedics.
The paramedic looked at Tonya’s pale face and focused on her injured arm. The young woman motioned for Tonya and Ashure to follow her while her partners took care of Max. Tonya looked over her shoulder as she was guided to the back of the ambulance. The entire neighborhood was now watching what was going on.
After she sat down, Ashure and the paramedic gently removed her jacket. She closed her eyes when a wave of nausea hit her. She had just realized that one or all of them could have died tonight.
“I’m going to have to cut your sleeve to get to the wound,” the paramedic informed her with an apologetic smile.
“It’s ruined anyway,” she numbly replied.
“Let me help take the pain away,” Ashure murmured near her ear.
She nodded, not opening her eyes. She felt his warm hand press against her forehead. He spoke the same soft, lilting chant that he had said for Max.
Tonya opened her eyes and stared into his as the magic took away the pain. Neither one of them spoke as the paramedic cleaned and dressed the long but shallow gouge in her arm. They looked up when they heard the other paramedics pushing the gurney carrying Max down the narrow walkway. Angela walked beside them.
“I’m going to ride with Max,” Angela said.
Tonya nodded. “We’ll follow you and meet you at the hospital,” she replied.
“You should get your arm looked at while you are there,” the paramedic instructed.
She absently nodded, more worried about Max. Ashure slid his arm around her waist, and they stood back while the paramedics loaded Max into the ambulance. Conrad helped Angela get in before stepping back as the doors were closed. In minutes, the ambulance was pulling away.
“Did either one of you see anything?” Conrad asked as he stood in front of them.
Tonya leaned against Ashure. The warmth of his body was helping her fight against the uncontrollable shivering that had set in. She felt as if she had just gone swimming in an icy pool. She reluctantly looked up at Conrad.
“I caught a glimpse of the car. It was a black or dark blue SUV. The windows were tinted, and the lights were off. Because of the darkness, no lights, and the trees, I couldn’t see much more. There were at least two people inside the car—the driver and a front seat passenger. The passenger is the one that fired the shot,” she said.
Conrad nodded. “You’re Tonya, right? Max and Angela’s adopted daughter,” he inquired.
She nodded. She had met Conrad a couple of times over the years but didn’t know him well because she had moved out by the time Max and Angela started hanging out with him and his wife. He and Max had been partners in the undercover unit for a few years, and she knew that he and his wife had a couple of kids the same age as MJ and Angie.
“Who are you?” Conrad asked, looking at Ashure.
Ashure smiled. “Ashure Waves,” he introduced himself.
Tonya laid her hand over Ashure’s and squeezed it in warning. “Ashure and I are together. We are in town for the weekend to visit with Max and Angela,” she explained.
Conrad looked at Ashure with a critical eye. “You have a hint of an accent I don’t recognize. Where are you from?” he asked.
“Conrad, can we leave the hundred questions until later? I’d really like to go to the hospital and be there for Angela and Max. I also need to get my arm looked at,” she said.
“Of course! I’m sorry, I should have thought about that. I’ll stop by the hospital after the scene is sealed off and the neighbors questioned here. The department takes it personally when one of our own is gunned down,” Conrad replied.
“This is personal for me, too,” she agreed.
Conrad nodded. Ashure kept his arm wrapped around her waist as they retraced their steps up the walkway. She paused to retrieve her purse from the ground where she’d fallen. He held his hand out for the car keys. She looked at him in surprise before she handed them to him.
“Are you sure?” she asked with a skeptical expression.
“Yes. I promise not to run over too many pedestrians,” he teased as they walked to the car.
She laughed and shook her head. “That would be the icing on the cake tonight,” she murmured.
After Ashure opened the door for her, she slid into the passenger seat and leaned back, holding her arm. It didn’t hurt thanks to Ashure’s spell, but she didn’t want to bump it. She took a long, deep breath and closed her eyes when they began to burn with tears.
She replayed the scene over and over in her mind, trying to find some clue. She opened her eyes and stared at the road as Ashure slowly pulled away from the curb. He would need directions to the hospital.
“Turn right up at the stop sign,” she instructed.
“I talked to the man who was following us today,” Ashure confessed.
Tonya nodded. “I saw you. I was going to ask when we were alone what you found out,” she admitted.
“His name is Ramon DeSantis. He is a private investigator,” he said.
She turned her head and looked at him. “You said Decker hired him to follow me,” she murmured.
“Yes,” Ashure replied.
“Well, I guess we have a suspect,” she said in a tired voice.
“Yes, we do,” he grimly agreed.
Ten minutes later, Ashure pulled into a parking space outside of the hospital. Tonya unbuckled her seat belt and pushed open the door before he could come around to do it for her. He met her in front of the car, and they walked across the dimly lit parking lot to the emergency room.
Tonya walked up to the reception desk. “Max Bennett was brought in a short while ago,” she said.
The receptionist looked up at the same time as the officer sitting next to her. “I’m sorry, I can’t release information about patients unless they are family,” the woman said.
Tonya nodded and swallowed. “I’m his daughter,” she said.
The woman gave her a look of disbelief. “I—” she started to say.
Tonya looked at the officer next to her. “Call Captain Conrad Rand. Tell him that Tonya Maitland is at the hospital to see Max. He’ll confirm who I am, or ask Angela. She should be with Max,” she said, trying not to get upset.
“The medical person also said you needed to be seen for the wound you suffered,” Ashure added.
The admittance clerk looked at Tonya’s torn and bloody sleeve, with wrapped bandage showing underneath, and murmured an apology. The woman motioned for her to sit down in a chair. Tonya gritted her teeth in frustration, but she sat down.
“She’s cleared,” the
officer said, hanging up the phone next to him.
“What are your injuries?” the admittance clerk asked.
“I was shot,” Tonya snapped.
“Tonya, Ashure,” Angela called from a door that opened to the left of the waiting room.
Tonya rose to her feet again. She ignored the clerk who protested that she needed to get a wheelchair for her. It was only her damn arm that had been grazed, not her legs. She walked over to Angela.
She wrapped her arms around the woman she considered her mother. They held each other for over a minute before she pulled back to study Angela’s drawn face. Angela gave her a tired, strained smile, but her eyes were clear.
“They’ve taken him back to surgery to remove the bullet,” Angela said, gripping her hand.
“How bad is it?” she asked.
“He’ll be out of commission for a few months. The doctor said it tore through some muscle and embedded in the bone. He’ll need some physical therapy, but luckily he has thick bones to go with his hard head,” Angela said with a short, strained laugh.
Tonya squeezed Angela’s hand in support. “We both already knew that,” she said with relief.
“How are you? I feel horrible that I took off without making sure—” Angela said, her voice choking when she reached out to touch Tonya’s arm.
Tonya shrugged. “I’m good,” she reassured her adoptive mom.
“I can take you back now,” a nurse said from behind Angela.
Tonya turned to Ashure. He was watching a man who had walked through the doors. He looked back and smiled at her and Angela.
“Go with Angela and the nurse. I will come in a few minutes,” he said.
She wanted to protest, but the nurse had grabbed her elbow and was practically pushing her into a wheelchair. She scowled at the woman, who ignored her perturbed glare. She looked back at Ashure before she saw the man behind him. She hissed in anger.
“What the—!” she started to protest before the heavy automatic door separating the waiting room and the back rooms cut her off.
Fear and fury hit her when she caught sight of the man who had been following her and Ashure all day. She was worried about Ashure and wanted to protest more, but she didn’t want to upset Angela or endanger anyone else. She didn’t know why Ramon was here, but it couldn’t be good.
20
Ashure caught a glimpse of Ramon out of the corner of his eye when the man entered the emergency room. Ramon nervously looked around and paled when he saw Ashure’s look of warning.
He waited until Tonya and Angela were out of harm’s way before he turned on his heel. Ramon grimaced and waited for him. He stopped in front of Ramon and stared into his eyes for a brief moment, searching for any evidence of duplicity or devious intentions, before he spoke.
“Follow me,” he ordered.
Ashure walked through the sliding doors leading outside. In silence, they walked along the sidewalk until they were out of the lights’ glow. Facing Ramon, he allowed the anger boiling inside him to rise. His silver eyes glowed with an unnatural sheen, and shadowy souls were clearly evident in his steely gaze.
Ramon lifted a defensive hand in a silent plea. “I didn’t know this was going to happen. I swear! I—you have to hear me out. I didn’t have anything to do with the shooting. I heard about it on my police scanner and came straight here,” he said.
Ashure’s fury boiled over, and he reached out and gripped Ramon’s neck. He lifted the man off his feet with one hand. Ramon choked, his eyes bulging with terror.
“Where is Morris Decker?” Ashure demanded.
Ramon’s hands clawed at the one around his neck as he tried to pull enough air into his lungs to speak. Ashure slowly lowered the man to the ground but did not release his grasp around Ramon’s neck. He stared into the Private Detective’s eyes, compelling him to tell the truth.
“After—after you left me at the restaurant, I called in some favors. Decker’s—Decker’s at his house in the Cedar Mills area. I’ve got—I’ve got his—his address,” Ramon choked out.
“Hey, is everything okay there?” a deputy who was walking up to the entrance called out.
Ashure released Ramon and lowered his arm. Ramon turned his head toward the police officer and gave the man a thumb’s up. The officer who had paused to study them nodded and resumed walking into the hospital.
“Give me the address and the directions to it,” Ashure ordered.
Ramon nodded and pulled his phone out. “I swear I didn’t know about what was going to happen,” he muttered as he pulled up the information. “I can send you this if you give me your phone number,” he added.
“I do not need one of your devices. Show me the information,” Ashure instructed.
Ramon held up his phone, showing the address and the route. Ashure whispered a finding spell and nodded. Ramon lowered his hand and took a long, shuddering breath.
“I want to go with you,” Ramon said.
Ashure raised his eyebrow. “Why?” he demanded.
Ramon looked at the hospital doors and back to him. Ashure could tell the man was terrified, but he also sensed resolve in Ramon’s voice. While he believed Ramon did not know that the shooting would happen, that did not mean the man would not betray him.
“I feel responsible,” Ramon confessed.
“Then we will take your car,” Ashure informed him.
Ramon nodded and fumbled for his keys. They walked across the parking lot in the opposite direction from the area where he had parked. Lights flashed on a dark blue mini-van that had obviously seen better days.
Ashure opened the passenger door and slid into the seat. Ramon grimaced and quickly disposed of a hamburger wrapper and an empty fast food cup in the trash can behind his seat. It took two twists of the key before the vehicle started.
“Are you sure this thing works?” Ashure asked with distaste.
Ramon nodded. “We needed a better car for my wife to take our daughter back and forth to the doctor. The van was already paid for, and they wouldn’t give us anything for it anyway, so I use it. It isn’t much, but hey, I don’t have to worry about anyone wanting to steal it,” he joked before he made a face and shifted the van into reverse.
“I imagine any thief would offer you their vehicle out of sympathy,” Ashure dryly remarked.
Ramon gave an awkward laugh. “That was a good one,” he said.
“You don’t get out much, do you?” Ashure asked.
“No, just work and going to the hospital is about all the life Alisa and I have had for the last two years. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Each day our daughter is still alive is a miracle to us, and we are going to hold on to them as long as we can,” Ramon solemnly replied.
“As you should,” Ashure murmured.
Ramon looked at him. “Can—can I ask who you are—really?” he asked, glancing at him before turning his attention back to the road.
“Simply a visitor to your world, nothing more,” he replied.
Ashure glanced at Ramon when the van swerved a little too close to a car parked along the side of the road. Ramon jerked his attention back to the road again. A brief moment of pity for the man swept through Ashure before it faded.
“I won’t harm you as long as you tell me the truth—and I can tell if you don’t,” he assured Ramon.
“Are you—are you saying that you—are you the Devil?” Ramon asked in a hoarse voice.
“No, I have never met this Devil person,” he said.
“Your eyes—I thought I saw—I saw—” Ramon stopped and swallowed again.
Frustrated, Ashure looked at the other man. “Do you always talk in broken sentences? If it is a natural impediment, I can understand, but you do not always talk that way, so I am not quite certain,” he said.
“I saw something in your eyes. It scared the shit out of me,” Ramon said in a rush.
Ashure waved his hand. “Lost souls. You have nothing to worry about—yet. Yours is still within the limits of rede
mption,” he replied.
“You are the Devil!” Ramon hissed with alarm as he jerked the steering wheel to the right and pulled the van into an empty spot along the curb.
Ashure turned in the seat and looked at Ramon. “I am the Keeper of Lost Souls. Now take me to Morris Decker, or it is quite possible that you will find yourself crossing the threshold to the Cauldron of Spirits,” he growled.
Ramon’s eyes widened, and he nervously swallowed. “We’re here. Decker—Decker’s house is there,” he stuttered and pointed.
Ashure looked out of the window. A long, narrow curving driveway wound a short distance up the slope to a modest two-story house with large windows nestled among the trees. The lights were on inside, and he could see someone moving past the windows.
“Well, then, it is time to introduce myself to Mr. Decker,” he commented.
“I’ll—” Ramon started to say.
Ashure opened the door and slid out of the van. “Stay here,” he instructed before shutting the door.
He scanned the area before striding up the path, sliding his hand under his coat, and pulling out one of his magical sabers. He tightly gripped the jeweled hilt. With the sword pressed against his side, he waved his hand and the front door opened.
He stepped across the threshold before he stopped and carefully listened. The sound of muffled music reverberated from upstairs, and a television program played to his right. He started in that direction before the deep voice of a man pulled his attention toward a hallway. He silently walked down it, tilting his head as the voice became clearer.
Ashure paused at the partially open door and pushed it far enough so that he could see into the room. There were two desks furnishing the room, a large, heavy one near the door and a smaller desk near the back of the room. The only lights were a single lamp in the corner and the computer screen on the smaller desk. Decker had his back to the door and was staring at the screen.
“I don’t care! I want you to find out what happened to Maitland and Bennett, and take care of them, you understand me? I don’t want any excuses,” Morris Decker snapped into the phone before he glared at it and threw it onto the desk next to the computer.