by L. T. Ryan
After the dust settled, I walked off in the same direction.
He'd said so little, yet so much. It was all indecipherable, though. Like everything else I'd heard since arriving. I came to the conclusion that Vernon and his guys weren't in charge. Of everyone I'd met, and everything I'd seen, all signs pointed to the older guy in the GMC truck. Or perhaps his boss, if he had one.
"Don't overthink it, Jack," I muttered to myself. I had a ride out the next morning. Why not take it?
Looking up, I saw the reason why I'd decline the rental car. Reese stood in front of a window, phone up to her ear. Her other arm crossed her breasts and was tucked under the opposite elbow. Didn't appear she saw me as I walked up to the garage.
She answered the door wearing a white tank top and gym shorts. No makeup. She didn't need it. I caught a whiff of her natural scent and had to fight off the urge to reach out and pull her close.
"Back so soon?" A slight smile twisted her left cheek.
"Was hoping maybe you could help me out with an omelet."
"Keep dreaming, Noble."
"Hey, let's take it easy on the Noble thing."
"Then how about you stop calling me Reese."
I glanced around the doorway, up the staircase. Reese placed a hand on my chest, not pushing me away, but keeping me from leaning in any further.
"I've already checked," she said. "It's not bugged."
"You sure?"
"Positive." She gestured for me to follow her up the stairs, which I did willingly. "And if I was wrong, they would have closed in on me long ago."
We reached the top floor and I checked out the apartment. It smelled fresh. Reese had adopted a minimalist approach to decorating. A couple low profile chairs and a couch. No clutter or magazines laying around. Open shelving on either side of the kitchen sink had white dinnerware stacked neatly. A plate of pastries sat on the counter. I grabbed one and took a bite. Raspberry jelly flooded my mouth. It was too sweet.
"Ran into your buddy again," I said.
"Oh yeah?" She snatched the pastry out of my hand and brought it up to her mouth. "Which one?"
"Vernon."
She wiped sugar glaze from the corner of her lips. Swallowed. "What'd he want?"
"Made me an offer."
"What kind?"
I popped the last piece of pastry into my mouth. "Told me he'd have a car for me tomorrow morning to get out of town."
"You sure that was an offer and not a directive?"
"I've got a choice, whether he likes it or not."
She nodded, but crossed her arms. Couldn't tell if she was leery of Vernon's offer, or mad that I finished the danish. "Are you inclined to accept the car?"
"Depends, I guess. You know anywhere I can stay for a couple days?"
"Things bad between you and Ingrid and Herbie?"
"Things are bad for them because of me."
"How so?"
"They won't say. But I found Ingrid crying earlier. Practically in the same breath she told me to get out and to remain at the house. You know how the older generation can be. She made me a promise and refuses to break it no matter what personal discomfort it might cause her and Herbie."
"That's true," Reese said. "Dying breed. Not many around here like that these days. Not even in their generation."
"You gotta level with me, Reese. What the hell is going on here?"
She dodged the question. "You can stay here if you want. Couch is pretty comfortable."
I glanced toward her bedroom.
"Don't even think about it," she said. "I don't wanna open that wound if you're not gonna stick around here to clean up the blood."
I stepped forward, placed my hand on the counter. We were inches from each other. "You could come with me."
"Where?"
"Somewhere."
"You don't even know where you're heading next, Jack. Why would I give up the protection I get from the program to follow you off into the sunset?"
"I can protect you better than anyone in the FBI."
She shook her head. "I know the trail of bodies you leave behind. Lots of collateral damage. You don't have many friends for a reason."
She'd body checked me into jagged glass.
"I'm sorry, Jack. That came out wrong." She slipped to the side, pulled a stool out and sat, leaning over the island counter. "What I mean is that you and I face the same problems. You know if I leave here and my identity is revealed, I could have a terrorist cell on me in an instant. Sure, the program landed me someplace where things are shady, but at least I'm not stuck in the middle of a bunch of suicidal homemade-bomb-vest-wearing assholes. I can take care of myself here. Elsewhere, without the proper vetting of the area? I don't know how long I'd make it."
I understood her point. And I decided that moment wasn't the time to press my agenda.
"So the couch," I said.
"The couch," she said. "You'll get a good night's rest on it."
I sprawled out on it, feet perched atop one arm, head resting against the other. "It'll do."
"I'll pull out some sheets for you to use."
"Nah." I rose. "I'll be fine like this."
"You got your stuff with you?"
"Gonna head back to the house and grab it in a few. Want to make sure Ingrid's had time to calm down. Not sure how she'll take the news that I'm not sticking around."
"She's survived everything else in her life. I'm sure she'll be OK."
"I'm sure you're right."
The conversation died after that. Reese put on a pot of coffee. After two cups, I headed out.
"Be careful out there," she said.
I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked back. The light silhouetted her frame. I couldn't help but stare.
"What?" she said.
I shook off the feelings rising for her.
"Reese, is there anyone in this town I can trust?"
"Besides me?"
"Besides you."
"Nope."
Chapter 13
I took a roundabout way back to the old couple's house, veering off on side streets and alleys. Some connected, others didn't. Didn't matter. I didn't feel like rushing it. I had no idea how Ingrid would take the news, or if she'd let me leave, even though we both knew it was best I did. They weren't safe with me there. She'd illustrated that point.
Heat rose off the blacktop, shimmering in front of me, distorting the surroundings, filling the area with the aroma of tar. Had to be the hottest day I'd faced in a couple months, at least. Definitely the most humid. My shirt clung to my back, damp with sweat. I'd always thought these parts were more arid than humid. Perhaps it was the time of year.
Behind me, dark clouds advanced from the west. Dark wasn't even the right word. They were black. Ominous. We were in for a rough one, it seemed. I wondered if the approaching storm was a harbinger of what was to come. Maybe the weather was why no one was out. The locals knew better than I that these storms could hit fast, dumping a ton of hail, littering the area with lightning strikes, and spurring multiple tornados. I made a mental note of houses with cellars in the event I found myself stuck in the thick of it.
The low rumble of a diesel engine rose from the south as I neared an intersection. In a town like this, there had to be at least a handful of heavy duty diesel trucks. But it sure sounded like the one I'd heard earlier. I took up position behind a large oak tree that had grown through the sidewalk, driving the concrete upward, splintering it into a hundred fragments. Some were missing. Likely taken by kids who tossed them at each other, or windows, or whatever.
The GMC slithered past, tires wavering in the haze. The older man drove. Linus was in the passenger seat. I presumed his larger friend was laid up at home after the beating he took. Was it coincidence they were in the area I was staying? Were they out looking for me? It wasn't like we were in New York City, where their presence meant they had me in their sights. The town was small. Smaller than small, actually. They might've been going from one house
to the next and just happened to be passing by.
The thought did little to settle me down. I remained on edge, anticipating an attack.
I repositioned myself against the tree so they couldn't spot me in the rearview. Two blocks later, they turned left and rolled out of sight. The engine faded amid the rumble of distant thunder. I backtracked one street in the event they decided to come down the same road again in a minute or two.
A group of kids around ten years old, give or take, huddled around the sidewalk. Their hands moved wildly. They spoke in excited tones, higher pitched voices rising and falling, each vying to get a word in. Eyes darted back and forth to each other, to the ground. Glances were thrown over shoulders. When the first one spotted me, he frantically waved his arms in front of him to stop the others. Someone was coming, and they didn't want to ruin their secret. They all straightened, turned toward me, stared me down.
"Gentlemen," I said, stopping about ten feet shy of their position.
"Sir," a boy of Mexican descent said.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"Nothing," the boy said.
They'd formed a wall of sorts. I took a couple steps forward, rose up on my toes to get a glimpse over them. A couple puffed up their chests, almost challenging me.
"Sure doesn't look like nothing," I said.
"It's nothing, old man," a blond-haired kid said. He looked to be the oldest of the group.
"Old man?" I stepped toward him. He met me half way. Top of his head didn't even come up to my chin. "Look, kid, if you guys did something, it's better you tell me than for the police to find out."
The blond kid laughed. "You think the police can do anything in this town?"
I shrugged. "They do in every other town I've ever been in."
"Yeah," the kid said. "Well you don't know shit about what goes on here."
"Why don't you tell me what kind of shit goes on here then?"
One of the boys reached out and grabbed the blond-haired kid by the shoulder. "Hey, man, that's enough. You know Darrow doesn't like anyone talking."
"Who's Darryl?" I asked.
"Not Darryl," the blond kid said. "Darrow."
"He drive a big truck, four wheels in the back?"
The kid nodded.
"C'mon, man," one of the boys said. "We need to get out of here."
All but the blond-haired kid turned and ran. They broke off in two different directions. The kid took a few steps back, eyeing me, almost like I'd insulted him personally, and he planned on doing something about it. The others called to him. Before running off, he spit toward me. The glob of saliva landed about halfway between where we stood.
"Better watch your back, old man," he said. "Darrow don't like people asking questions."
I watched the group until they were out of sight. Their voices gave way to laughter. Things never mattered for long when you're ten.
I walked over to where they had huddled when I first spotted them. Looked down at the ground. Didn't see anything. I squatted and traced the indented patterns in the grass. Something had definitely matted the ground. Could've been one of their shoes. Or a glove. Or a stack of playboys. Get a group of pre-teen boys together and who the hell knew. Whatever it had been, they'd been sharp enough to scoop it up and conceal it without me noticing.
I searched the immediate area for a few minutes before giving up and resuming my trek to the old couple's house. The black clouds were close to overcoming the sun, which resided right over my head. Wasn't long until the storm would arrive.
Perhaps in more ways than one, I thought as I spotted the old couple's kitchen screen door broken and resting on a single hinge.
Chapter 14
Crystal River, Florida, 1988
Jack whipped his head around to see who was at the door. He felt himself ripped out of his chair as he located his sister. Beyond her were only shadows. He forced himself to look again at the sounds of her struggling and pushing against the door. An arm penetrated the gap. She was losing ground.
"Molly," he yelled.
"Go," she yelled back.
"Let go of me, Sean," Jack said.
Sean's grip intensified as he dragged Jack away from the house.
"Molly's in trouble."
"I know," Sean said. "I'll take care of it, but first I have to make sure you're safe."
Jack struggled with his brother. "I can take care of myself."
"Dammit, Jack. Listen to me." He grabbed Jack's shirt with both fists and drew him in close. They stood in the middle of the yard. "I don't know what's going on, but if something happens to you, Dad will have my ass for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I know you're a tough dude, but let me handle this. You're not ready."
Jack sulked back. Even though there were only two years between the boys, the physical difference was great. Sean had six inches and forty pounds on Jack. His brother was practically a man in stature. Hell, he was bigger than a lot of men at six-foot-two. The only solace Jack took from it was that in roughly two years, he'd be about the same size.
The brothers stood in the backyard, glancing around, listening. It was hard to hear anything over the cicadas buzzing. Then thick beams of white light hit the darkened trees.
"They're coming." Sean looked around, then shoved Jack toward the porch. "Get under there. Stay quiet. I'll be back for you in a minute."
Jack dove on the ground and squeezed underneath the porch through an opening only he could fit through anymore. Halfway in he had to shimmy his hips side to side to get past. He closed his eyes and allowed his other senses to take over. After a few seconds he heard voices.
"Where'd she go?" a man said.
Molly.
She'd made it out, got away from the men.
"I don't know, but we better find her." Different voice, but Jack couldn't place it either. "She saw our faces. It won't take long to track us down if she makes it to the cops."
Were they local? Wanted by the police? They didn't sound like they were from around Crystal River.
"She called out for the boys to run," the other guy said. "Any idea how many kids were in there?"
"No clue. But we didn't see them, so I doubt they saw us. She's our priority now. We'll take care of any others when we find them. We better hurry finding her, though. If those boys ran, it won't be long until the cops show up."
The planks above Jack creaked as the men passed. Flashlight beams knifed through the thin slits between the decking, illuminating his hands, head, the area in front of him. He searched the ground around him until he came up with a rock for each hand. The jagged edges dug into his fingers and palms. Would it do any good against a grown man? He supposed so, as long as he could work up a decent swing. That wouldn't happen where he was hiding. But it wasn't like the men could make it underneath the porch.
Their bullets could, though.
And that thought had Jack crawling back toward the house. The further from the opening, the less likely they'd spot him, if they looked under there at all.
"Look," one of the men said a few moments later. "There, in the woods."
Their heavy footsteps drowned out the ambient noises of the humid Florida evening. Jack waited a moment, started to move, then felt the vibrations of more men running across the porch.
The hell? How many are there?
He couldn't stay under there all night. Not while his brother was out trying to protect his sister. And not while Molly was out there being hunted. Hell with that. There were weapons inside, and he knew where to find them.
Chapter 15
My first instinct was to run into the house. Training and experience took over. This was a case where I knew not to trust my gut. If someone wanted to draw me into an ambush, this was the perfect way.
Herbie had been out of the house. Ingrid was supposed to follow. I figured after our conversation, she had left. No point hanging around alone. It made perfect sense that the older guy would use Linus or another of his guys to set a trap like this. Bring a couple fres
h bodies along. Lure me in by making me believe something happened to the old couple. If they'd been watching the house, they knew Herbie and Ingrid were gone.
I dashed between two houses, hopped a fence. A dog barked from inside. If anyone heard him, they ignored the racket. For the moment, at least. I crossed a freshly mowed yard and found a spot where I could peer through a crack between two fence boards. The wind had picked up. Grass clippings blew into my face. The busted screen door swayed, banging into the heavy wooden door. I waited as the sunlight dimmed and the gusts increased. The first patter of rain hit, followed not long after by the banging of pea-sized hail.
No one came out of the house. The hedges didn't move unnaturally due to someone hiding there and growing impatient. If this was a set-up, the men behind it were more disciplined than I pegged them for.
I decided to make my move toward the residence. There might be an attack, but the conditions were in my favor. I went up and over the fence in a single movement. I felt a jolt shoot up my right leg. The ground where I'd landed was uneven, and I'd rolled my ankle. I grimaced against the flash of pain. Last thing I needed was an injury that limited my mobility.
Three steps into my dash across the street and I thought I was going down. I hopped across the rest of the way on one foot, keeping my focus straight ahead so I wouldn't throw off my balance. The hail thickened and pelted everything in sight. It ricocheted off my head. Each piece felt like a tiny hammer against my skull. I took cover at the side of the house, protected somewhat by the overhanging roof. The chunks of ice still hit, but with a much reduced frequency.
Using the house to support my weight, I tested my ankle. The pain had subsided. I completed a couple test steps with a slight limp.
At the screen door, I stopped and scanned the area. It felt almost calm amid the driving rain and hail, lightning strikes and thunder, and heavy wind.
The screen door banged against my back as I reached for the kitchen door handle. I eased the door open and slipped inside. Water dripped off me, splattering the floor. A puddle grew at my feet. It felt like I had entered another dimension, the air was so still. The sounds of hail hitting the tin roof echoed throughout the kitchen. I waited there, gaze loosely fixed on the next room, listening for any movement.