“Over there,” Felicity sat forward and exclaimed. “On your right. The gas station!”
“What?”
“The gas station,” she repeated urgently. “Pull in and get under the light so I can read the map!”
Ben jerked the van over into the next lane and then quickly hooked it into the lot. He pulled off to the side, out of the way, and rolled beneath a bright streetlamp. Felicity was already out of her seat and climbing over me to get to the door before we had come to a stop. I convinced her to wait a second while I levered it open and slid it back. She pushed past me the moment the opening was wide enough for her to fit through then continued spreading out the tattered map, which was literally falling apart in her hands.
Ben switched off the engine and yanked the keys from the ignition to kill the warning buzzer, then tossed them into the console.
“I’m going to go use the restroom and grab a coffee,” Constance announced, pushing her door open. “Anyone want anything?”
“Make that two,” Ben told her, reaching for his wallet.
“I’ve got it,” she replied. “Rowan? Felicity?”
“I’ll come with you,” I told her unbuckling and climbing out of the seat. I squeezed past Felicity, who’d yet to answer, and put a hand on her shoulder. “Honey, anything?”
“What, oh, yes, a water,” she chirped absently, intent on studying the faded and torn rectangles of paper. Then, almost as an afterthought she added, “And maybe a new map too.”
I gave her a nod that I suspect she missed entirely, and then skirted around the nose of the van, following after Constance. Since we were parked along the far outer edge of the station’s lot, near the street, the store itself was a good thirty-five yards or better from us. Mandalay waited a moment for me to catch up, and then we fell in step with one another, strolling across the near deserted expanse of asphalt.
“Is Felicity going to be okay?” she asked.
I looked over and saw sincere concern in her face. “I think so,” I replied. “This case is really the first time she’s been through this sort of thing from my perspective. I think we’re both having a little trouble adjusting to the change of roles.”
She nodded. “Makes sense. Okay, so clear something else up for me. What was that whole thing with the whiskbroom? That some kind of WitchCraft thing or just a sudden attack of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder”
“It really is a spell actually,” I replied with a slight chuckle. “It’s meant to get rid of unwanted guests. Basically you just take your household broom and turn it bristles up. If the magick works, the unwanted guest will leave.”
“Don’t they get a little suspicious anyway when you scream ‘goddammit go away’?” she asked with a grin.
I laughed. “Yeah, well, I have to admit that was my own addition. But I guess there are some instances where that could work without the broom.”
Traffic was dying down out on the main road. I glanced at my watch and based on the time figured that it must be a dinnertime lull. Besides us, there were only two other vehicles on the gas station lot. One parked on the side of the building, and another with its lights on and sitting in a space near the front door.
An undulating breeze whipped along the lot, weaving its chill around the light standards and gas pumps as we walked. It swished through as if on a whim, caressing us with its gelid fingers, and then left as quickly as it had arrived. I found myself suddenly wishing that I had brought a jacket.
Still, the prickly cold that was running along my spine remained, even after the calm had returned. I shuddered at the feeling, my mind beginning to entertain the idea that it had not been an effect of the wind at all. As the hair on the back of my neck began to rise, I realized that my mind was apparently on to something, because it dawned on me that the sudden chill had come directly from Constance.
“You have got to be kidding me…” Mandalay said in a soft voice, more than a little incredulity wrapped around the sentence.
“About what?” I asked, confused.
She didn’t answer, but she was beginning to slow her pace.
We were a little better than halfway to the door when I shot a curious glance in her direction. At that same instant, her arm came out in front of me, extended like a barrier. Her steadily slowing footsteps now came to a complete halt. Her expression was deadly serious, and her eyes were locked straight ahead.
“Go back to the van, Rowan,” she told me in an even tone.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, confused by her sudden change of demeanor.
“Go back to the van,” she repeated.
She moved fluidly, and her arm was no longer in front of me. Following the motion with my eyes, I noticed she was slipping her hand beneath the folds of her blazer. As it disappeared under the fabric, I heard a quiet snap. She continued speaking in a no-nonsense voice. “Tell Storm to get you two out of here and call for backup.”
Her hand was now filled with a forty-caliber Sig Sauer, and she was starting once again to advance on the storefront. I looked past her, through the large windows and at the brightly lit interior. It took a moment, but my eyes finally fell on the correct target, and I saw for the first time that which had not escaped her finely honed attention.
“Go! Now!” she hissed over her shoulder as she started to jog, angling toward a blind spot near the front door.
CHAPTER 34:
I was approaching the van at just under a dead run. Even though I couldn’t see them, I could still hear Ben and Felicity bickering on the opposite side of the vehicle.
“Felicity, that’s not much to go on,” I heard Ben say as I reached the front corner and started to hook around.
“It’s better than nothing at all, Ben,” my wife snapped in return, her voice a mix of frustration and urgency, both vying for dominance over her tone.
I whipped around the front of the van and almost slammed directly into her. Her back was to me, and she was holding a scrap of paper up into the light of the streetlamp above, animatedly tracing a route with her painted nail as she spoke, “I’m telling you if we…”
“Whoa!” Ben barked, cutting Felicity off mid-sentence as he grabbed her arm and yanked her to the side. His other arm came up in a flash and brought me to an unceremonious halt as my chest thudded against his outstretched palm. “What the fuck, white man?!”
The impact had knocked the wind from me, and I sputtered as I tried to catch my breath. “Constance… Backup…”
“Do what?” he asked.
I sucked in another breath and pointed back toward the station. “The store’s being robbed,” I blurted. “Constance needs backup.”
“Oh Gods!” Felicity exclaimed, shuffling to look past me. “Is she okay?”
“Jeezus!” my friend rumbled at the same instant, stepping forward and looking over the front slope of the van as he reached for his sidearm. “Is she inside? Forget that, I see ‘er. You got your cell phone?”
“Aye,” Felicity spoke up.
“Stay here outta sight and call nine-one-one,” he instructed. “Tell ‘em what’s goin’ down, and let ‘em know they have two off-duty cops on the scene.”
“What are you going to do?” I queried.
“If we’re lucky, nothin’,” he replied as he drew his sidearm and began scanning the area.
“What do you mean nothing?” Felicity asked, shaking her head.
“Just make the call,” he returned quickly, starting toward the near side of the station, then stopped and muttered, “Awww, goddammit, not now…”
I peered past him and saw a car rolling to a stop in one of the spaces at the front of the store. I could see Constance crouched in a blind spot near the entrance, any view of her from the inside being blocked by a pair of back-to-back payphone pedestals. She was trying to motion to the person in the newly arrived vehicle to stay put but to no avail. Either the woman had yet to see her or simply wasn’t paying attention, because she got out of the car and started toward the front door withou
t a care.
Behind me, Felicity was already speaking to the 9-1-1 operator, quickly reciting the name and location of the gas station. Ben started moving, taking off at a fast clip into the shadows before cutting suddenly to the left and aiming for the side of the station.
Constance was gesticulating with as much fervor as she could while still remaining hidden from the interior of the store. The woman had actually gone several steps along the sidewalk before looking up, and she now noticed the gun-wielding federal agent. Of course, having no idea who Mandalay was, she froze in place and began to scream.
Ben was just hitting the corner of the building and fell to a crouch at the side of an ice machine, arms cocked with his Beretta firmly gripped and aimed in front of him.
As the woman’s first fear-filled cry broke the quiet atmosphere, the old metaphor about ‘hell breaking loose’ was instantly invoked. Her fading wail was punctuated by a muffled pop, and that was followed rapidly by two more. The woman snapped her head to the side, looking in what was apparently the direction of the noise, then stared into the store through the windows. She immediately broke into a second scream. A fleeting second later the metal-framed door flew open, and a young man bolted through. I couldn’t see his expression at this distance, but I could tell simply by the way he moved that he was panicked. In one hand, he had a paper bag and was clutching it in a death grip; in the other, I could see a dark object that I assumed to be a pistol.
He was heading directly for the car that had been parked in front of the store when we first arrived. He had almost made it to the door of the vehicle when he hesitated and looked back toward the screaming woman.
As the young man stood there, I caught my breath and felt my pulse beginning to pound in my temples. I couldn’t have looked away if I had wanted to, so I watched, unblinking, the fate which was about to be revealed.
Constance came immediately up from her crouch, weapon stiff-armed before her as she moved forward, closing the gap. She couldn’t have been any more than twenty feet from the young man, and she kept her pistol aimed at his center mass. Ben was stepping out from the shadows, moving in behind her, but still had quite a bit of distance between him and the situation.
“Stop!” Constance announced in a loud voice. “Federal agent!”
Startled, the young man jumped and spun toward her, throwing his arm up at the same instant, pointing it wildly in her direction. There was a loud pop and burst of fire from the pistol in his hand, and at the same instant, the front window of the store sparkled with an instant spider web crack.
Before the report of his gun had even reached its peak, the first of three bright flashes erupted from the muzzle of Constance’s Sig Sauer. The rest followed in unison with a resounding trio of sharp cracks. The young man jerked backward with each impact and then fell, disappearing from my view behind the vehicle.
The bystander was backed against the windows, crouched down with her hands over her ears as she shook her head violently. She had fallen silent, apparently too frightened to scream any longer. Constance advanced forward carefully but quickly; her sidearm was still in hand, aimed with great purpose at the ground in front of her. Ben was a few feet behind and to her right, circling in with his own pistol stiffly pointed at the downed felon. I watched as they both moved in, Constance all but disappearing from sight on the opposite side of the vehicle while Ben’s head and shoulders remained visible over the line of the roof.
Behind me, Felicity had stopped talking, but I could hear the thin strain of a tinny voice wafting into the air. I looked back to see her staring past me at the now quiet scene. The cell phone was resting against her shoulder and she slowly pushed it back up beneath her hair.
In a calm monotone, she said, “Aye, I’m still here.” Then added simply, “Yes… She shot him.”
A moment later, in the near distance, a siren suddenly began to wail, and I looked over to see flashing red lights barreling down the thoroughfare, heading in our direction. Glancing back to my friends, I saw that they had moved back up onto the sidewalk. Ben holstered his sidearm and then reached into his pocket. A second later, he carefully slipped a cord over his head then unclipped his badge from his belt and attached it to the bottom of the loop.
Constance was now leaning against the payphone pedestal, her head hanging and her doubled fist pressed against her lips. I watched as Ben looked over at her, shot a glance up to the shattered window and then brought his eyes back to her. He reached up and began rubbing the back of his neck. I could see his lips move as he said something to Constance. A moment later, I saw her head slowly bob in the affirmative.
And then, I started breathing again.
* * * * *
Bright white flashes punctuated the flickering red lights that fell across the front of the convenience store. The area was cordoned off with yellow plastic tape, and evidence technicians were snapping photos and setting out numbered tent cards next to shell casings on the ground.
A handful of local officers were now on the scene, from those in uniform, to plainclothes detectives. At present, one of the uniformed officers was directing a white SUV toward a parking place. As it passed us, I could see that it was emblazoned with the words SAINT LOUIS COUNTY CORONER.
Constance was locked in conversation with one of the detectives, occasionally motioning toward the pay phones or the suspect’s vehicle. Felicity and I had been told to wait with the van. Initially, one of the officers had asked us some cursory questions and then said that we would eventually need to give statements since we had been witnesses. That had been a little better than thirty minutes ago, and lag time was not sitting well with Felicity.
The longer we were forced to wait, the more agitated my wife became. So, I wasn’t at all surprised that when Ben finally broke away and walked over to check on us, she greeted him with a hand cocked on her hip and an attitude to match the pose.
“We have to go,” Felicity announced, her words leaving no room for negotiation.
“We ain’t goin’ anywhere for a while,” Ben said, giving his head a quick shake.
“How long is ‘awhile’?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I dunno. As long as it takes.”
She stared back at him with a hard look and then shook her head, speaking tersely. “We simply don’t have time to wait around, Ben.”
He looked back at her, then drew in a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers as he closed his eyes. You could almost see him mentally counting to five. He slowly let out the breath and then opened his eyes.
“Let’s try this again,” he announced. “I came over here to tell you two that ya’ should prob’ly get comfortable. ‘Cause we ain’t goin’ anywhere for a while.”
My wife continued glaring at him defiantly. He raised his eyebrows and glared back at her.
“You were here,” he finally said, motioning to the scene behind him. “You saw what happened, right? Or am I just imaginin’ that?”
“Aye, we saw it. And your point?”
“Felicity, there are two dead bodies over there,” he explained, hooking his thumb over his shoulder again. “The clerk and the kid who shot her.”
“I understand that,” she replied, “But what about Kimberly?”
“What do you want me to do?” he asked as he splayed out his hands, palms up in resignation. “I can’t help that we stumbled into a fuckin’ armed robbery. Believe me, I wish we hadn’t just as much as you do.”
“Can’t we just give our statements and get out of here?” I asked, trying to help defuse the tension between them.
“I wish it was that easy,” he replied. “But one of those dead bodies over there has three government-issue, forty-caliber Hydra-Shoks in it, courtesy of Mandalay. There’s no way to just give a statement and walk away from that.”
“What about us?” Felicity pressed. “You didn’t shoot anyone and neither did we.”
“I was backing her up, and you two were witnesses,” he replied.
“Can’t you just get them to hurry up?” She was almost physically shaking from her frustration.
“I’m a city cop, Felicity. This is the county, and I’m not with the MCS so it ain’t my jurisdiction. Besides, you don’t rush this kinda shit. Not when people are dead. You know that.”
“So, how is Constance anyway?” I interjected, trying to change the subject.
“Holdin’ up,” he replied, pursing his lips and casting a glance back her way. “It’s never easy… Especially when it’s a kid.”
“How old was he?”
“Got no ID yet, but he looks like he can’t be more than fourteen.”
“Too young,” I muttered.
“Tell me about it,” he replied and then reached up to his neck.
“Ben,” Felicity appealed again, her voice softer but no less demanding. “We have to go. Kimberly can’t hold out much longer.”
“Felicity…” His voiced trailed off for a moment, obviously tired. “You don’t even know for sure where she is.”
“I showed you on the map,” she replied.
“You showed me the Chain of Rocks Bridge to the other side of the river,” he returned.
“But it has to be somewhere close to there.”
“Yeah, but where?” he asked. “Twenty-five mile arc? Fifty-mile arc? Huh? What are we gonna do, go across the bridge, start yellin’ ‘er name and hope she answers?”
“Dammit, Benjamin!” she snipped. “There’s a way to find her, I know it, but we have to go!”
“What way? How?”
She shot me a furtive glance. “You wouldn’t understand. Just… We need to go!”
“Try me.”
“There’s no time for explaining!” she insisted. “We have to go!”
“Okay! Fine! Whaddaya want me ta’ do?”
“Get us out of here.”
“Okay, how?”
“Tell them about Kimberly.”
“Tell ‘em what?”
“That she’s out of time!” she spat. “That she’s going to die if we don’t do something!”
Crone's Moon: A Rowan Gant Investigation Page 26