by Brian Shea
She leaned forward in the direction of the girl as she spoke and the movement loosened the shoulder strap of her blouse, exposing the light pink strap of her bra. The contrast in color to her dark brown skin was enthralling, and Nick quickly averted his eyes so as not to betray his sudden interest in the woman seated before him.
“Then it’s settled. You two will look out for our little friend tonight and we’ll reconvene in the morning,” Jones said, grimacing as he looked down at his watch. “I have a standing order with the guys at headquarters that if any of the other girls start talking, we are to be notified immediately. And Homicide will call if they catch a break.”
They ambled out of the CPS office. Jones smiled and gave a two-fingered salute as he headed off in the direction of his car. Nick and Anaya stood silently and looked at each other for a moment before walking to his Jetta.
“We’re going to need to grab some food on the way over to my place. It’s a pretty sparse situation in my fridge right now,” Nick said, embarrassed.
He was suddenly concerned about the impression his meager apartment would have on Anaya. It’s not like we’re going on a date. But maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. He pushed the thought from his head and refocused on the task ahead. Protecting Mouse from whoever was hunting her.
He started to doze off. The afternoon’s sun had dipped behind the white concrete exterior of the Child Protective Services building. Cain’s eyes, no longer squinting against the brightness, suddenly grew heavy. He’d trained himself to stay awake for days at a time. He prided himself on his control and was mad at himself for his momentary slip now. His neck cracked, releasing the tension built over the last several hours of sitting. The black Jetta that the Heathen had arrived in sat unmoved in the parking lot.
He adjusted the volume on the dashboard. The Pastor’s words soothed:
If one is to walk without my hand, then he is alone. Alone to enter the darkness. Susceptible to its pull. Take hold. Allow my mighty grip to embrace your mortal fingers. Should you stumble, then you will feel my strength. For in the darkness I never waver. My light burns eternal. Those that follow it will stay the path. And my path is the Way!
As if on cue, the front doors of the CPS headquarters opened. The Heathen exited, surrounded by the same three he’d seen earlier. The friend of my enemy is my enemy.
28
The apartment’s temperature was not much different than outside. But after working up a light sweat from climbing the three flights of stairs to get to the door, the ceiling fans running full speed did give a slight reprieve. Nick hustled in ahead of Anaya and Mouse. He cleared off the small round dining table adjacent to his living room and spread the food out. He tossed the stack of mail and magazines into a haphazard pile on the floor.
“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company,” Nick said, apologetically.
“No need to explain. My place is pretty much the same. I spend more time in my office or car. I don’t usually entertain guests either,” Anaya said, giving a reassuring smile.
Nick returned the smile and walked into the living room. He pulled back the blinds and opened the sliding door. A light breeze cascaded in, granting additional relief. Hard to believe it was only May and the heatwaves had already begun their assault. The word Spring held no meaning in Texas.
Mouse happily plopped in the seat with her back to the living room. She slid the padded straps free from her shoulders and laid the backpack down at her side. The weight of it was a reminder of its deadly contents. The tall agent reached down to pick the bag up and her hand involuntarily snatched at it, pulling it away and further under her seat. He retracted his hand quickly and his eyes widened with a flash of shock.
“I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just going to put your bag in the guest room,” Nick said, diffusing the tension.
“Sorry,” Mouse said, offering no further explanation.
She refused to release her grip of the bag’s strap. She was convinced that the agent would feel the weight and know that something was off. It was a strange standoff and her heart fluttered with the anxiety of it.
Nick was looked down at the little girl, evaluating the obstinacy. He felt Anaya’s hand on his right shoulder. The weight of it snapped him out of his bewilderment. Her fingers unknowingly caressed the scars where an enemy’s rifle had long ago found its mark. He turned and faced her.
She stood close, and he could smell something sweet in the air around her. Anaya glanced down at the backpack and gave a subtle shake of her head. Nick understood. Not worth battling with the girl over it. She was in a fragile state, and it had probably become her security blanket.
“I’ve got a couple bottles of wine. Shiraz or Merlot?” Nick offered, breaking the tension.
He gestured over to the cheaply made wooden wine rack set atop the counter. The sparse selection of wine sat next to an overly-ripened banana that clung to the hanger from its blackened stem.
“I’m a sucker for either. You chose,” Anaya said, batting her eyes slightly.
Anaya had a playfulness when she spoke with Nick that bordered on flirtatious. He liked it.
“Shiraz it is then. A favorite of my departed father,” Nick said.
Nick reached into a cabinet above the rack and retrieved two stemmed wine glasses. He set them on the counter and began rummaging a drawer for the corkscrew.
“When did he pass?”
“A couple years ago,” Nick said.
“Sorry to hear that. I never really knew my parents. And what I do remember, I’d rather forget,” Anaya said. “I don’t typically speak about my past. To be honest I don’t know why I feel so comfortable to do so with you.”
“To pasts, good or bad, may they stay where they belong,” Anaya said, directing the conversation away from personal landmines.
The clank of the wine glasses was louder than expected, and Mouse looked up with a mouthful of cheeseburger. She looked more like a chipmunk than a mouse in her current feeding frenzy. She then went back to the food, grabbing a handful of fries. Nick and Anaya watched the small girl inhale the feast in front of her.
“You can shower or take a bath after dinner if you’d like?” Nick offered.
Mouse nodded. She leaned over her food. Her left arm a barrier between the two adults and the pile of French fries. Nick had seen inmates eat in a similar fashion. A primal need to protect their rations from the vultures.
“Take your time, hun. We’re not in any rush. Eat, get cleaned up, and if you want, you can watch some television until you get tired,” Nick said.
Mouse nodded again. She slowed her rate of consumption, but only slightly.
It was a nice apartment complex. The lighted pool looked inviting with its decorative fountain spitting water into the warm air of the evening. A couple sat closely in the hot tub, oblivious to the man in the Range Rover. The SUV was off, and the windows cracked slightly. He sat looking up toward the third-floor apartment. No binoculars were needed. Nor would they be prudent.
Cain took out his phone and confirmed the location. He reclined in the comfortable leather of the seats and then sent a text. I should be done cleaning up in a little bit. Would you like to meet for a drink?
The Pastor did not respond, but he knew the messages were received, and its context would be understood. It was like talking to God. Like prayers whispered and with blind faith, believing that they were heard. He would wait. It was only a matter of time now.
“Why here?” Izzy asked.
The two friends gave a brief embrace and sat themselves in the black metal chairs of the pizza shop’s street-side patio.
“Two reasons. One, I love it, and two, I can walk here,” Declan said.
“Fair enough,” Izzy said.
“Plus, Val and the girls are down the street at the creamery. They wanted to see you. I figured we could walk down and meet up with them after we had a chance to talk,” Declan said.
“Sounds good. It’s been too long. I’ll bet the girl
s are growing fast.”
She thought back to the first time she met his youngest, Laney. Not the kind of encounter that most people had. Trapped in a mini-van fully engulfed in flames.
The waiter quickly appeared and warmly greeted them. He smiled at Declan, probably recognizing him as a regular.
“We’ll do a pitcher of Coors Light and a medium OMG,” Declan said, without looking at the menu.
“OMG?” Izzy asked.
“It’s not on the menu. A pizza covered in veggies and drizzled with a balsamic glaze. The call it the Oh My God pizza and only us regulars know about it,” Declan said, winking.
The waiter nodded and took the menus, retreating into the restaurant.
“Sounds amazing,” Izzy said.
“Trust me, it is,” Declan said. His smile faded as he continued, “Now back to the business at hand. Let’s get this Nick thing sorted out.”
“Well, as I said on the phone, something is seriously wrong with him. Something’s eating at him,” Izzy said.
She cast her eyes downward and opened the napkin. She busied herself with the task of arranging the silverware.
“Agreed. My question is, how do we help him?”
“Not sure. I could call some friends in the bureau that I know out that way. Maybe they could lend a hand and check in on him,” Izzy proposed.
“This is Nick we’re talking about. He barely opened up to us. You can’t ask a stranger to do it. He’d never bite,” Declan said.
“Then what are you suggesting?” Izzy cocked an eyebrow in suspicion of the former Frogman’s thought process.
“Road trip,” Declan said.
“Road trip?” Izzy asked.
A cocky smile formed on his face, softening his rigid jawline.
29
Nick and Anaya stood in the small kitchen leaning against the beige speckled counter. The two poured their second glass of wine while Nick cleaned up. Mouse finished her bath and was back in her clothes from earlier. She sat on the couch. Her wet hair flopped onto her shoulders. The dampness would be a welcome change. Even as darkness set, the heat of the day remained. Like a friend who refused to leave a party after its end.
“She seems to be doing well under the circumstances,” Anaya whispered.
She moved close to Nick to relay the message so as not to disturb the girl’s television-induced trance. Nick liked the way Anaya smelled. Her skin carried a hint of cherry or maybe plum. Whatever the fruit, it was sweet. Up close, he noticed that Anaya’s eyes had flecks of amber and were dazzling. He looked away, immediately uncomfortable with his feelings.
Anaya remained close to him, standing still. She drew her lips into the slightest of smiles. So slight in fact, that Nick wasn’t sure whether his mind was playing tricks on him. As if taunting him further, she ran her finger slowly across the rim of the glass.
“She’s as tough as they come,” Nick said, breaking the tension.
“We need to get more out of her. Find out where she’s from. If she’s got family in the States,” Anaya said, still whispering.
“We’ve also got to figure out who the assholes are that want this girl,” Nick said, pausing only a moment before continuing. “Let’s get her to bed. Maybe after a good night’s sleep she’ll be more apt to talk.”
Nick watched as Anaya moved into the living room and leaned over the couch. Mouse was entranced by the television. She nodded absently at whatever the social worker had said, standing with a yawn. The two moved in tandem to the guest bedroom.
Nick showed them to the spare bedroom. It wasn’t much more than four walls and a bed. He looked on as Anaya tucked in the small girl and returned to him as he stood in the threshold of the door. As she clicked the light switch, Mouse mumbled a barely audible, “Thank you.”
Anaya looked back. Closing the door, she said, “Get some rest, my brave little girl. You’re safe now.”
Nick had shut the TV off and the apartment took on a stillness. He met Anaya in the hallway as she exited the guest room.
“Sorry. Not much to the apartment. I haven’t really done anything in the way of decorating since I moved in.”
“Like I said before, no need to apologize. We’re not so different.” Anaya stretched, her mind and body giving way to the stress of the day.
“You look beat. Take my bed. I’ve got the couch,” Nick said.
“Don’t be silly. This is your house. Sleep in your bed. Trust me, I’m no snob when it comes to comfort and your couch looks better than the cot in my office.”
“I insist. I won’t be able to fall asleep so quickly. If at all,” Nick said.
He gave a slight bow and wave of his hand. His best attempt at a fairytale prince’s curtsey. Anaya conceded to the agent’s request and returned the bow, retreating to the back bedroom without further protest.
Nick grabbed a spare sheet from the hallway closet and tossed it on the end of the couch. It was warm now, but Texas temps in the Spring had a way of dipping low just before the dawn. In the quiet, he realized he was exhausted, too. He shut the living room light off. The moon gave the room a warm glow.
Nick sat on the couch. The soft, faux-leather exterior beckoned him to lay down. As his eyes fought the sleep that was fast approaching, his mind recalled the image of the dead girl and then of Mouse. I’m not going to let that happen to you. It was his last thought before he drifted off.
The lights in the apartment had gone off nearly an hour ago. Cain looked at his watch. It was only eleven, but it was Sunday. People did not typically stay up late with Monday’s impending return to work. Yet he waited. He couldn’t fail again. The Pastor would not be as forgiving a second time.
He listened. Over the last two hours, he’d acquainted himself with the complex. The couple in the hot tub left for their apartment, most likely to finish off the foreplay started beneath the bubbling water.
A security guard in an SUV, adorned with a yellow light on top, cruised through the lot twice. Each time it had been at the top of the hour. Routine lent itself to opportunity for men like Cain. The rent-a-cop had passed by a few minutes ago, meaning he would not return for another hour. It didn’t seem like he’d notice much anyway. On the two passes, the guard’s head was looking down and the glow of his screen cast a white light on his face. Most likely consumed in the disconnected world of text messaging or social media.
He opened the door and stepped from the Range Rover. Cain’s large frame expanded as he stretched. His size made the SUV look small in comparison. A yellow hue cast down from the light pole several feet away. The sweat on his bald head reflected a muted shine. He surveyed the lot one last time.
Satisfied that nobody was watching, he stepped off in the direction of the apartment building. Each step forward brought him closer to retrieving the Heathen. Service is its own reward.
30
The click startled her awake. It sounded louder in the silence of the night. Mouse never felt safe. No matter who was protecting her on the other side of that door. She remembered her dad’s saying, Sleep with one eye open. She also remembered that she spent several days trying to accomplish that task. Mouse’s father had laughed hard at his daughter’s literal interpretation. She missed him. And she missed his lessons. But his skills were her skills now.
The backpack rested against the side of the bed and her left hand rummaged to the bottom, finding the butt of the gun. The metal felt cold and was an awkward fit for her small hands. It was a compact semi-automatic, which made it slightly easier to grip than a full-sized model, but the weapon’s smaller frame wouldn’t lessen the deadliness of it.
Big things come in small packages. Just like her.
For a large man, Cain moved with the soft steps of a cat. He allowed for his weight to transfer before taking each step, shifting heel to toe. After picking the apartment door’s lock, he entered, moving slowly across the tiled floor entranceway. Once he reached the living room area, he was able to step a little more quickly because of the carpet.
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He didn’t see him initially. This angered Cain. His sloppiness could have cost him the mission. He knew he would need to press the blade in his pocket into his flesh to remove the sin. That would be later. He had work to do.
The man on the couch was sleeping. His feet hung over the far-side armrest. The heavy breathing indicated he was not alerted to the man standing nearby. It would be quick, and then he’d move on to the Heathen.
Cain slowly unsheathed a knife from the Kydex holster located in the small of his back and lowered himself, approaching the sleeping man’s head on all fours. He displaced his body’s girth among his four appendages, moving like a panther on the prowl.
Once in striking distance, Cain stopped. He listened. The man on the couch did not change the pattern of his rhythmic breathing.
He adjusted the tang of the double-sided blade in his right hand. The hilt of the black handle covered by his meaty thumb would be a counterbalance to the force as he drove the knife downward. Pull the jaw toward him and drive deep. Cain knew that to kill a man like this was not done with the gentle swipe of a blade. To kill a man by cutting his throat took strength. And it also took skill. It was important to execute the action without a sound to avoid alerting the others.
A friend of my enemy is my enemy! I am the Hand that delivers the truth!
Cain’s left hand found its hold on the sleeping man’s chin and he pulled back hard. The motion caused the man’s neck to arch, exposing his throat. The knife came up high and the blade flashed in the moonlight. He drove down as a scream erupted in the hallway ahead of him, drawing his attention as his right arm continued to descend.
It wasn’t a girly high-pitched scream. Mouse didn’t make those. This was a warrior’s release, like the men she’d read about in Colonel Chamberlain’s ranks as they fixed bayonets and charged down Little Round Top in what became a turning point in the Battle of Gettysburg. She gave a battle cry! And it had the desired effect.