All Blues

by Marie Wathen

  I snap, “Shut the fuck up about Sam.”

  “God you are so easy, brother.” He laughs, slapping me hard on the back and gripping my shoulder. I shrug out of his hold. “You know that once she knows your truth you will be golden, right?”

  86400 seconds in a day to speak the truth.

  The hairs on the back of my neck rise when the memory of a fortune cookie maxim pops into my head. A whisper, sounding like Angel calling out to me floats on the wind nearby. I cut my eyes across the parking lot finding the source. Grey eyes grip me, holding on like an anchor through this hellish nightmare, for only a moment before turning away, shamefully. Now that she is no longer undercover, her guard is lowered, and I can read her expressions like a book. She loves me, but hates herself for it. I pray like hell that Attacus is right, and the truth shall set us free.

  Scanning the area, I notice that the crowd is thinning. The police are urging the busybodies, who have no business being here, back into their vehicles. Besides reporters with their live feeds, those remaining mostly consist of investigators interviewing witnesses and medical staff standing around in shock of this unbelievable night. A well dressed man leans toward the open backdoor on the marked patrol car that Sam is sitting in. When I first met Max, he said that by chance he discovered me while he was observing Sam. It looks like he is finally making contact with his original objective. Does he really expect her to leap at his offer to join him on taking down Dr. A after everything that she has suffered through tonight? Once I heard Mark Hatfield mention that he was linked with the infamous drug lord, I am positive of my path now. But how does one go about finding someone who has successfully spent a lifetime hiding from the world?

  With my thoughts spinning through the web of ideas on how to track a ghost, my gaze travels back toward Sam. She has moved away from the car, long strides leading her toward Rad. They embrace and a raw feeling of jealousy rips right through my soul. Clearly, they have a history and a strong connection. From here, I can even see love and respect passing between their expressions. Definitely partners.

  “Did you hear me?” Attacus asks, stepping front of me and tilting his face to gain my attention.

  “No, what did you say?”

  “There is something that I need to talk with you about. Not tonight, but soon.” The apprehension in his voice sounds off loud alarms in my head.

  “What’s going on?” The tension in his tight jaw tells me that something is worming its way deep inside him. Attacus doesn’t make a big deal out of shit unless it is a big deal.

  “Get through with Nelson and then we’ll talk. You have a shitload on your plate right now, and I need to head out west,” he glances at his watch, “later today. It’s already Saturday.”

  “Are you sure? I’ll always make time if you need...”

  “Sloane, we need to talk,” a thick southern-accented voice breaks into our conversation.

  Glancing behind Attacus, I notice a large man with a badge clipped on his belt walking toward us. Attacus responds, “How can I help you, officer?” My brother moves to stand beside me, gripping his arms tightly over his chest and looking intimidating as hell.

  “Sorry?” the man states, looking from him to me, seeing our similar characteristics, which confirms we are related. “Ah, so you must be a Sloane, too.”

  He answers, “Yeah, that’s right. I’m Ethan’s brother, Attacus.”

  “My name is Captain Reebals.” Pointing toward Rad, he says, “This is Sergeant Russ Daniels.” Russ’ swollen, red eyes pierce me with severe aggression. “Well, gentlemen, I would say that it’s a pleasure to meet you, but I would be lying through my teeth. Your brother here needs to come down to the station with us,” he explains, pointing at me. Attacus bows up, like he is preparing to fight anyone who moves to put me in cuffs.

  “Why the hell would he do that? I witnessed him playing the hero back there, even saving your ass.” He gestures toward the Russ, and I see grief move across the suffering man’s face. I punch my brother’s arm with the side of my closed fist, trying to shut him up. “No, Ethan, I think you deserve a break from all this bullshit tonight. They certainly don’t want to cause a stink with all the reporters hovering close by.”

  Captain Reebals doesn’t take this threat well. “For now it’s just standard questioning. You’re more than welcome to join us. But let me assure you, Ethan is coming downtown. Either he can come along willingly, or we can do it the hard way.” Attacus growls, his fist clenching, and Russ moves in closer. Pushing his sergeant aside, the captain threatens my brother, “Don’t interfere, son. Because, I’m sure that I can dig up something on you that could prove to be equally as incriminating this maggot.”

  The explosion of voices thunders through the dark night, and I find myself willing to kick the guy’s ass for implying that my brother is anything like me. Threats of trumped up charges blast from both men, and I can see that the rest of my night will be spent in a cold jail cell. A sensation passes over my skin, and suddenly my aggressive words, telling him exactly what I think about him and where he can stick his bullying tactics, stalls when I see Sam walking up behind the men.

  “Decks backed out on our deal, because of him,” Sam says to the Captain. Apparently, they are under the impression that he is working with their department to possibly turn over states evidence on Nelson. Clearly, the leader of the cartel was her target, and Decks was her ticket to getting him.

  “We have a signed statement from Mr. Kennedy. It will hold up in court.” Captain Reebals assures her, turning his attention toward me. Too bad for them that I got to him first, and from what she says to her boss, he waivered on their agreement. I’m certain that Decks won’t give her the time of day now that she has betrayed him. She really shouldn’t have broke cover so soon.

  Her temper is blazing through her beautiful grey eyes, glaring directly at me, when she says, “Great. Then arrest that piece of shit.”

  Immediately, Russ drags Sam away, and I see red watching his hands moving up her arms. Attacus explodes again, demanding that I speak up now, but it isn’t the time or place for that reveal. The Captain’s nostrils flares and he issues another warning about my brother interfering. My bitching at him to leave Attacus out of it goes unheard by the stubborn man in charge, who continues yelling between me and my brother. The old guy’s face is so dark with anger that I’m becoming concerned that at any minute he might kill over with a heart attack. So, I calm, and talk my brother down too, offering my hands up in surrender. The metal bites into my skin as the uniformed officer shoves me forward, toward his car, which happens to be exactly where Sam and Russ are talking.

  Stopping right in front of Sam, my eyes scan over every inch of her, thanking god that she escaped injury tonight and wishing that my arms weren’t pinned. I long to wrap them around her and vow that I won’t let another damn person hurt her ever again. She has no idea that she is my world. One day, hopefully soon, I will remedy that issue, and she will be all mine. While staring at me, her body arches forward and for a moment I think that she might kiss me, but that idea burns away in an instant.

  Before being shoved into the backseat of the patrol car, I tell her, “Detective, this is not how this ends.”

  She doesn’t hold back with a punch of her fantastic attitude when she retorts, “Goodbye, Mr. Sloane.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Warm stagnant air billows from the nosy wall unit inside the west Atlanta hotel room barely doing its job of knocking the chill out of the mid-February evening. “A car will be downstairs in fifteen minutes to take you back to your hotel…drop you at the airport…Stay in disguise…Don’t forget to take an alternate route…Murph has a flight out of…I will coordinate with my man on the island…” Max’s monologue doesn’t interest me. I hear him speaking, but nothing about what he is saying registers. My eyes are glued to the computer screen, rereading the headline story for the tenth time. “The last member…Mr. Sloane…” he draws out my name loudly, frustrated
with my lack of concentration.

  Ignoring his attitude, I point toward the laptop. “What do you know about this?”

  When he doesn’t respond immediately, I cut my eyes over at him, and he says, “Let’s focus on what really matters, shall we? Dr. A. –”

  “How involved are you with this murder?”

  “You really don’t need to give thought to any of that. What’s done is done.”

  “Inchoate details, bogus trust, manipulation of scenes,” I snap, standing and storming over to get in his face. “How much bullshit must I endure before you stop lying? I am damn tired of the secret squirrel rigmarole. You want me to lead your goddamn ghost hunt, then fucking give me the respect that a true leader deserves. You owe me.”

  A shadow moves swiftly across his face, disappearing just as quickly before he replies. “Juan Arturo was executed. That’s all you should care about. One less threat to your loved ones safety, but he certainly isn’t the last,” he says without a flicker of emotion.

  “Nelson was arrested last week. I’m disappearing, and the scattered remains of his mafia won’t have anyone leading them. There is no one left.”

  “Certainly there are other Hijos…”

  “No one will come for them,” I shout.

  “Fine,” he concedes. “As I was saying, your crew is being assembled on the island as we speak. To you, I am the boss–HQ. To them, you are in charge. Other than Sam, no one will know of my existence, and she isn’t to be made aware of the level of my involvement. It must stay that way.” I nod my agreement. “Recruiting your other two agents was also done with specific measurement. Including you, the four members making up this team possess high intellect, calculation, physical agility, common sense and loyalty toward commitment, all of which will play into the ability of our pursuit and the eventual capture of Dr. A. At times, you will not have the knowledge of which you feel is necessary to complete your tasks. I’m sure that pisses you off, but in order to obtain optimal performance you and the rest of this crew must stay focused on each new task. Hate me or not, your information is on a need to know basis.”

  Under my breath, I mumble, “Motherfucker.” Then I turn away and storm over to shut down my computer and gather up the rest of my belongings. Dragging my palm over my two day stubble, I focus on my breathing before turning back to him. “When does the job start?”

  “Once Nelson’s court case is over and the Feds move Decks into witness protection, you will get your orders. Enjoy your short break and I’ll see you back here in a few months. Oh, before I forget…” He slides a manila envelope across the table. “…The dossiers for your new assignment.”

  Max leaves, and a couple of minutes later my car arrives. On the ride to the airport, I open the confidential packet. Inside are two files, one labeled Julia Maxwell, and the other Breesan Maxwell. There is a lengthy profile for each, which includes daily schedules and routines. Apparently, Julia has been having an affair with Dr. A for a while, even before her marriage to Breesan’s father, Brendt. She is a curator at the Renaissance Castle. Looking at a copy of her passport, I would say she is very beautiful. Young Ms. Maxwell, a high school junior at West Willow Prep, is also striking with eyes the color of my favorite beauty. Narrowing my gaze on the silvery-grey shade and then scanning over her other features, I see a few noticeable similarities. Now, that is odd. I wonder if Breesan Maxwell is related to the Walker’s. Damn, I’ll need to ask Max about Sam’s relation to our little objective.

  The trip back to Willow Island is several hours longer this go around, routing me through the Midwest before I board a cruise ship leaving out of Louisiana and porting in Key West. Twenty-four hours later, I dock a private speedboat on the northern shore of Willow, snag the keys to a rental car and then call Jude.

  “What’s up?” he sings in his annoying cheery morning voice, grating on my sleep deprived brain.

  “Are you still at the castle?”

  “Nope,” he answers making a popping sound with the ‘P’, “But, I’m out running errands for Nat this morning. Meet me at the bakery on Junction Avenue then I’ll take you out to the new place.”

  Frustrated, I growl, “Where the hell is Junction?”

  “GPS the Day-Old Braided Roll, I’ll meet you there at eight.” With that he disconnects.

  Twenty minutes later, I park and exit the car, crossing the street at the corner, and then enter the empty bakery. I scan the room, noticing Jude standing at the counter. After paying, he retrieves a pink box and two Styrofoam cups from the cashier. Turning around, he offers me a toothy grin while thrusting one of the coffee cups toward me.

  “Come on, the place is remote. I’ve had it under surveillance and only regulars ever come out here. We’ll sit on the patio.” He pushes open the side door, and I follow him out.

  A small group of elderly ladies sitting near the entrance turn and watch as we exit. Three of the four elegantly dressed women resume playing their card game while one keeps her sparkling light green eyes riveted on us. Seagulls dip low, coming close to grazing my head as they soar along the seashore in front of the beachfront business. The early morning sunrise warms my face, burning off some of the caginess in my soul as I sit at an empty table in the far corner of the enclosed courtyard facing the ocean.

  “Ally, you’re up, sugar,” a sophisticated voice declares behind me. I glance over my shoulder toward the group of women. The one who continued watching is still regarding me, completely ignoring her tablemate. The friend sitting to her left jabs her with a scrawny elbow, laughing robustly. She announces to the group, “In the twenty years of knowing Aileen I have never witnessed her letting a bacon and cheese croissant linger for more than two minutes of it touching a plate. What’s so interesting, Als?” The three women all follow her gaze, landing on me. I offer a polite smile in return. Like a true flirt, Ally winks mischievously. She redirects her attention back on their game, encouraging her friends to do the same while tossing out some money to resume play. Shifting my attention toward the beach, I think about how familiar she looks. My last trip here was limited to the castle and the hotel, but I guess I may have seen her in passing.

  “So, it’s done?” Jude asks then gulps down a mouthful of hot coffee.

  Moving my gaze from the dark, angry, roaring waves over to him, I nod. “Nelson, along with almost everyone in his crew, is behind bars for various felonies. The charges are insurmountable and should gross him fifty to sixty years in maximum security. The only way he’ll catch a break is if his sharks pay off the jury.” My left eye twitches, anxiously. “The Feds are bringing in extra manpower to ensure that there is no dirty tampering.”

  “Smart,” he affirms.

  “Damn sure wish we could have pinned the murders on him too.” He bobs his head. “I’m staying in Atlanta until after sentencing, which could be as late as September.”

  He asks, “And what about Urban and your sisters?”

  “They need to stay here until I know that they will be safe returning back home.”

  “Max wants me to stay, but since Juan is no longer a threat, I don’t see the point.”

  “He tried convincing me that there will be retaliation.”

  “That was his selling point on us staying here too.”

  “Did he tell you anything about how he died?”

  “No,” he answers, looking away from me. He pauses for several moments staring toward the street. “But, I do know that Nelson received a package right after he was arrested.”

  My forehead crinkles and my eyebrows squish together. “What package?”

  He glances at me, takes a long sip of his drink before placing the cup in front of him and then leans forward. Softly, he asks, “Remember how Juan informed the families about the treachery of that gang out of California?”

  Vividly recalling our conversation a few months back, I answer, “Yeah.”

  “It was a fancy silver wrapped package that anyone could have assumed was a wedding gift. Instead of finding the
token can opener or monogrammed bath towels, it turns out that someone sent him a message. Only Nelson was already incarcerated and Camille thought it was meant for Britny and Hartley, so she opened it.”

  “What was the message?”

  “A silver bullet… Nelson’s name was engraved around the tip and it was lodged between Juan’s teeth. Can’t imagine how freaked your aunt was staring into his dead eyes looking back at her.”

  I shudder, “Nice visual.” We grow silent, pondering that thought.

  “The place that I located for y’all is sick, wait until you see,” Jude says, changing the subject with a smile in his tone. “It’s right on the beach and part of the property bumps up against a large wooded area. No neighbors for miles, and it’s locked up tight, like Fort Knox.” He chuckles, “Definitely your kind of place.”

  “Mmm…” I say distractedly, observing the lovely flirt, Ally, still trying to place her.

  “Of course, Natalie insists on helping with design.”

  “Yeah.”

  One of the ladies in the group says to Ally, “So, I hear that your granddaughter returned a few days ago.” A second woman states with a mocking British accent, “Is she here on holiday?” They all laugh at what I assume is an inside joke, and Ally nods, laughing with them.

  “The backyard is big enough for you to have a full shooting range and it comes with a heated Olympic size swimming pool. The boys love it, but that kid sister of yours turned her nose up at the whole place. That feisty attitude reminds me of someone,” I vaguely hear Jude still describing the place, but it’s muffled by their continued conversation,

  “Hmm, really?” I mumble.

  After a round of sniggers, more comments are shared between the women. “I thought she was staying in Alabama permanently.” “No, you dippy heifer, she was living in Georgia, right Ally? What was it that she did again?” “Since she’s back, I assume that she will finally be joining your boys on the board at Walker Corporation.”