“He’ll talk,” Janet said. “He just needs a woman’s touch.”
“Seduction is not the order of the day, Janet,” Kellan sneered.
“No,” she agreed, turning toward the door. “But you handcuff him to the chair and I’ll make sure he’s either singing like a canary or like a soprano, but it’ll be his choice.
Shocked, perhaps a little amused, Kellan raised an eyebrow, snickered. “C’mon, sister. Let’s go.”
Chapter 32
Alex woke shivering. His head throbbed. His eye hurt. He was freezing! His skin felt as if it was going to flake off, yet a clamminess crawled over his body as if he’d been dropped in a huge tub of sardines.
Blinking, Alex welcomed the gentle light, though it pierced his brain as if a porcupine were rolling around on his prefrontal cortex. The whoosh of wind sounded odd to Alex. Almost foreign. Certainly artificial. He wasn’t on ground, but the surface was both hard and cold. How could the wind be—
A ceiling fan!
Relieved to still be in his home, Alex began a mental inventory of his body, its weakness, strength, pains, assets and liabilities.
Groaning, Alex began to twitch his face. Wriggling his hands, which sent shockwaves of pain toward his elbows, Alex willed his arms to brace him. Raising his head, Alex winced as his skin peeled away from the frigid flooring. Saliva and blood caked near the corner of his mouth and nose. Touching it didn’t seem to elicit any serious pain. Always a good thing.
Struggling to his hands and knees, Alex winced again as another pain shot through his hand, down his forearm and into his elbow. His hand began to throb incessantly. His ring finger and little finger were almost completely numb, absent the pain coursing through it. On inspection, a slight blueish-purple tinge had settled near the apex of his pain. As a rush of clarity hit him, Alex sat up on his feet, spun to and fro, searching for his attacker. Looking toward the nearby table, Alex wasn’t surprised to learn that his gun and holster were both gone.
Nearby, his cell phone had been smashed. Sifting through the shattered remnants, he found the SIM Card. Small victories, he thought to himself. Standing, Alex reached for the switch that turned the ceiling fan off. He stumbled, caught himself. Stuck the SIM Card in his pocket and braced himself with his broken hand.
Steady, his vision clearing, brain fog finally lifted, Alex walked back to his bedroom. Retrieving a box from the nightstand, he opened it – gingerly, as the mere act hurt his fingers. Removing his old phone from the box, Alex replaced the SIM card, turned it on.
“Thank God for upgrades!” he chuckled to himself.
Reaching under the bed, Alex found a locked metal box. Dialing in the combination on the four numeric rotors, Alex opened the box. Hidden in the cut out foam, shaped to form a perfect cradle for his 9mm and two mags, there was, instead, a neatly folded piece of paper.
Alex,
If you’re reading this, you obviously think I am stupid. So, let’s see how smart you are. We begin where it ended. And, if you’re not smart enough to figure it out by sundown, I’m afraid you’ll be the one burying somebody. Such a sweet dog.
Calloway’s unsigned note angered Alex to no end. Placing it back in the box, Alex locked it away. If nothing else, maybe it would keep until it could be checked for prints.
Opening Lisa’s closet door, Alex frantically searched for the brown purse she’d just replaced with the ugly rustic patterned one that he would never tell her he hated.
Near the back of the closet, he found three old purses. Say what you will about Lisa. She wasn’t the most girly girl in the world, but the woman loved her purses!
“Bingo!” he cheered as he found the white purse tucked behind two others he didn’t honestly remember her ever using.
When the purse felt heavier than expected, Alex smiled. Tilting it over, out dropped the HK P30 he’d bought her last Christmas.
As if he could send the affection to his Aunt Rita’s house by sheer force of will, Alex kissed the weapon, then checked it to make sure it wasn’t loaded. Breathing a sigh of relief, Alex felt around in the purse for a stray magazine. When he failed to find one, Alex began a frantic search. Six purses later, he realized they were not in the closet. Atypical of Lisa, she did not keep the magazines with the weapon.
Perhaps it was Lisa thanking him for sending him affection. Or maybe it was just years of marriage and partnership paying off. Whatever the case, Alex ran to the bathroom, threw open the cabinet beneath the sink. Amid the cleaners and gloves and giant bottle of hand sanitizer used to refill the container resting by the faucet, Alex found exactly what he’d been looking for.
Any other man would feel perhaps a little emasculated by grabbing his wife’s tampon box and tossing them willy nilly. But Alex didn’t have time for that. Though he’d want to clean those up later, he found what he was looking for and, leaving the mess, grabbed the gun, loaded it, put the spare mag in his pocket and stood erect.
Looking at his hand, Alex decided on one last course of action prior to battle. Opening the drawer to his left, Alex took out a rolled up bandage. He didn’t have any sort of splint, but he was more concerned about bumping the hand than actually using it.
Pausing again to take a couple of Tylenol, Alex turned and walked to the living room. After a search of the living room and foyer proved futile, Alex wandered into the kitchen where he found his keys with yet another note.
“You’ll need these. We begin where it ended, Alex. We begin where it ended.” Alex read aloud. “Yeah, well, I’m coming.”
But where was he going?
We begin where it ended
“It ended for you in a prison cell in Huntsville,” Alex said, walking toward his car. “No, wait! I got it!”
***
There were no words to accurately describe how Danny felt. He’d lied. He’d betrayed his best friend. And now, Alex was…what? Missing? According to Kellan, he’d only gone off the grid about an hour ago. Not uncommon for Alex. Why all the hubbub? Had something happened? Kellan hadn’t said why that was so relevant, but he’d obviously been concerned about something.
Sitting alone, Danny was amazed at how he felt not unlike a prisoner in solitary confinement. Though he had a perfect view through bars on the front and the side, it was, to Danny, as if the walls were closing in on him. He’d had company until that morning when a man had been released by the judge. They hadn’t spoken. Danny had no idea who he was or what he’d been accused of, but he was free now.
Unlike Danny.
Laying down on his bunk, Danny stared at the ceiling. Somewhere inside, he was trying to stare through the ceiling. Trying to find whatever controlling force played havoc with his life as of late. Whatever else Alex might be, he was a man that had a relationship with a deity Danny’d always found to be nothing if not completely foreign.
“Well, God, are you there? It’s me, Danny. I dunno. Maybe you know that? Sorry. Look, I’m sorry I kept secrets. I’m sorry I screwed up. But, if you’re real, I need your help now. Well, my buddy does. Alex believes in you. Honestly, I dunno what to think. I don’t even know what I’m saying. I feel like I’m talking to myself. But, if you are there, take care of Alex, will ya? Let him turn up. And keep him safe. Well, okay, that’s it. Danny Peterson, over and out. Or—Amen or whatever it is you’re supposed to say.”
Danny’s whispered prayer didn’t echo. They didn’t seem to penetrate the stark quiet calm of the cell block at all. Rather, his words just seemed – to him at least – to hang there, somewhere between ethereal and the nether worldly existence often attributed to a Heavenly Host, as if waiting for whatever God might actually exist to receive them unto Himself.
A slight buzzing noise – something of a florescent light about to flash out – was the only sound breaking the otherwise perfect silence of his cell. Just as immediately as the buzz sounded, it stopped.
Footsteps, hurried footsteps!
“Chief?”
“Shut up!” Steelman whispered, putting a
finger to his lips. “They’ll hear!”
“But, how…”
Steelman shooshed him again.
Two uniformed police officers trotted into view. Without hesitation, Steelman raised his sidearm. “Hold it!” the young officers froze. The fear in their eyes was almost inappropriate, even for a young cop.
“Drop the guns,” Danny said, eliciting a reproachful glance from Steelman. “Sorry, Chief. Your show.”
“Guns on the ground,” Steelman said. “Hands behind your head. Careful officer! Nice and easy!”
They complied when he directed them to lay on the ground. Kicking their guns away, Steelman reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. Fishing through them, he separated a key, unlocking Danny’s cell.
“Get their guns,” Steelman said to Danny. He complied. “Alright you two! Up! Slowly!”
The two young officers complied. Motioning with the gun, he directed them into the open cell. As they both sat down on the bench, Danny locked them in.
When one of the officers charged the bars, Steelman held out a Taser. Stunned by the mere sight, the two officers stopped. Backed away.
“Sorry about this,” Steelman said, as one of the officers decided to charge again. Rigid, he fell in a lump.
“You good?” Steelman said to the other officer. Silent, he nodded, looking back and forth from his fallen comrade to the chief that had just dropped him.
“Now,” Danny whispered, “Mind telling me what’s going on?”
“We have to go. Tell you on the way.”
“Tell me now,” Danny insisted, keeping his voice low. “Why would you risk your career on a jailbreak?”
“Too late for me, Danny. But it might not be too late for others.”
“Exactly what do you mean, Chief?”
Trotting toward a nearby fire exit, Chief Steelman forced the door open. An Alarm triggered, causing Danny to grab his ears.
“Alex is in trouble.” Steelman shouted, over the alarm.
“What are we waiting for? Let’s go.”
Chapter 33
We begin where it ended.
And it ended in the cemetery where Calloway’s wife and daughter were buried. A light snow had begun to fall, making the roads a bit hectic, given the typical East Texan’s propensity to erupt into a full on panic at the first sight of precipitation, but Alex made it to the cemetery safe and sound. When he pulled up, he thought, perhaps, he’d been wrong. Where else could it have ended for him if not the place where his wife and daughter lay buried? The same place where two bodies had been found shortly after Calloway’s release.
As Alex exited his car, he hugged himself tight. Though he’d remembered a jacket he had, much to his chagrin, neglected gloves – not that he could have worn a glove on his currently-bandaged hand.
Thank God, Alex thought to himself, it was his left hand and not his shooting hand. Checking his coat pocket, Alex found the weapon secure and ready to go.
Exiting the vehicle, Alex surveyed the area, but found no signs of people or canine nearby. Cocking his ear, Alex trained all of his senses on nearby woods. Though sparse, there were enough trees to provide cover and a sloped area would have provided quite adequate cover for a bit should anyone wish to make a surprise attack.
Scanning the trees, he didn’t see anything to suggest anyone had foraged into the bramble thicket standing guard at the only true opening.
A tap on the shoulder jolted Alex 180 degrees.
Disarmed by the stringy red hair and savage features of an older man, Alex let go of the gun.
“Like it?” the man asked, lightly framing his face, much like a Price Is Right model would show off a shiny watch. “Little hobby I picked up in the slammer. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one.”
“Calloway?”
“A-actually,” he stammered, as his false teeth shimmied loose, “It’s Jason Kirkland now. But I guess your people already know that by now.”
“Jason Kirkland is dead!” Alex shouted, eliciting a disapproving look. “And where’s my dog, you scum-sucking pig?”
“Touchy touchy!” Calloway replied. “All this fuss over a mangy little mutt. Hey, I left you one. Why all the fuss? You really need two dogs?”
“It’s not up to you to decide what I need, Calloway.”
The punch was quick, but Alex was able to get his bandaged hand up in time to block it. Falling back onto his car, Alex fought to steady himself. The slick ice and snow gathering on his hood made it impossible.
“And what made you think it was up to you to decide what I needed?” Calloway shouted. “I needed my family and you took them from me!”
As Calloway lunged forward, Alex slid to the ground, bringing a mountain of a man down on top of him. Alex hadn’t realized it before but, as Calloway crashed down upon him, there was a lot of muscle where once flubber had been.
But something else.
“Slick move sending your family out of town, Alex. You had to know what was coming. But you didn’t send everybody did you? How is your little niece anyway? She is your niece right? That hot little number I caught showering. I thought it was a nice little message, didn’t you? Just a warning shot. Thought my second shot was much better. There they were, enjoying their little hamburger. Should have seen the look in his eyes when I slammed into them. How is her little boyfriend anyway? Did he die? I have to say, when I plowed into their car, the crunch of metal was a bit intoxicating. Thank God for the Italians though eh? Those mob boys sure like their tanks. Alex? Are you listening to me? Alex, I’m talking! I’m going to need you to stay awake, Alex.” Shaking Alex like a lifeless ragdoll, Calloway growled.
A punch to Alex’s jaw rang his bell. It didn’t wake him. If anything, it was like coffee to a drunk man. Alex was more alert. He was hardly clear. With no other option, Alex lunged and arm into Calloway in the groin. When he fell to the side, Alex struggled to a kneeling position.
Tearing at Calloway’s face, Alex ripped the red wig from his head.
“I. Am. Going. To. Kill. You!” Alex grunted. He ripped and scratched and pulled at the latex nose and cheeks and chin, ripping parts of it off. Just as Alex was about to punch the now uncovered Calloway, he was surprised by an elbow to his knee followed by a chop to the throat.
Gasping for breath, Alex fell to the side.
“You wanted to see your little mutt? Well, come on!”
A kick to Alex’s midsection ejected whatever breath he was managing to suck in. He could feel himself wanting to black out.
Choking, coughing, Alex spit up blood as a stream of mucus discharged from his nostrils.
Rolling Alex over onto his stomach, Calloway ripped the jacket from Alex’s body. As a rush of cold and wet smacked Alex, his gasping for air turned to a sudden and painful gulping of the absolute coldest air he’d ever felt inside him.
“Well, now, what do we have here?” Calloway said, his attention drawn by a single glint of light off of wet metal.
Alex was unable to answer. Trying to focus, he wiped his nose and mouth with his shirt sleeve.
Seizing Alex by the hair, Calloway dragged him – helpless – toward the gun that had flown out of Alex’s coat pocket when Calloway had ripped it from him.
Bending down, Calloway kept a careful watch, dividing his attention as he picked up the gun.
“Alex? You weren’t going to shoot me were you?” Calloway laughed. “That’s neat. Not that you were going to shoot me. But that you actually thought you were going to be able to.”
Checking the magazine, Calloway verified the weapon was loaded. Tucking it into his waistband, he sneered at Alex, trying to steady himself on hands and knees.
“Get up!” Calloway said, his teeth gritting, eyes narrowing to mere slits. He pulled Alex up by the hair, causing him to wince again. Leaning him back, wrapping an arm around Alex’s neck, Calloway’s face was now inches away from Alex’s ears. His warm breath smelled of rotted skunk. Though his teeth hadn’t seemed to show any signs of de
cay, clearly a dietary deficiency or some such had allowed for halitosis to settle deep within Calloway’s oral cavity. “Let’s go find that dog.”
Chapter 34
He was leaning against something hard. Tensing his leg muscles, he found his bent legs would not stretch.
Though wearing a long-sleeved shirt, it did little to stave off the drafty wind. Fighting against the cold proved futile as a chill sent a shiver up Alex’s spine, causing his entire body to jolt.
“Good, you’re awake.”
Even buried deep in a fog, he recognized Calloway’s voice. Blinking, trying to focus, Alex saw – maybe felt would be a more accurate word – a shadow looming over him. As his vision swam into focus, he saw Calloway’s breath dancing in the cold air.
“Alex, I’d like you to meet someone.”
The sound echoed off his skull, causing him to grimace. He felt his face blanch under the sharp pains stabbing at his throbbing brain. Though he’d never been drunk, he imagined this was what they meant when they referred to someone being punch drunk. Having been punched into unconsciousness more than once, he was nothing if not a tad hungover.
Two hands on his face provided a moment of welcome warmth. Though calloused, the hands seemed welcoming as they rubbed his cheeks briskly, but not hard.
“There now. Awake I hope.”
His vision clearing, Alex looked up at Calloway. Though silhouetted by the sunlight passing through the trees as it began relinquishing command to the power of the night, Alex could make out Calloway’s facial features fairly clear. It didn’t appear as though he had anymore prosthetics or makeup on.
His ribs ached. His hand throbbed.
“I left your hands untied, Alex. You can fight if you want. But no running for you today.”
“Where would I go?” Alex asked. “You’ve got my dog. I expect to leave with her or I expect to not leave at all.”
Target: Mendez: An Alex Mendez Tale Page 12