Silent is the Grave

by Candle Sutton

  “I will. I know it would be the best thing for…” Elly froze.

  The pause lengthened. Zander shifted his weight. “You, uh, okay?”

  No response. She sat perfectly still, like one of those wax figures at that museum down by the pier.

  “Elly?” He hesitated a second before rounding the table, sitting on the bench beside her, and touching her arm. “Are. You. Okay?”

  Still nothing.

  Was she having a stroke? A seizure? Some other kind of neurological abnormality? Maybe he should get Betty.

  All color fled her cheeks and she gasped.

  He started and jerked his hand back. Why, he wasn’t sure. Reflexive, maybe.

  “We have to go.” Urgency lined her words as she rose. “Now. We have to go now!”

  He found himself on his feet, even though he hadn’t made the conscious decision to stand. “Go? Where?”

  “To Monica. She’s in danger.”

  She turned toward the house, keeping a brisk pace that forced him to jog to catch up.

  “Hold up.” He caught her arm. “What do you mean she’s in danger?”

  Purple sparks battled in her eyes, which seemed to take up her whole face. “I mean that if we don’t go now you’ll be pulling her corpse from a dumpster.”

  “How do you know?”

  “God.”

  Why did he even ask?

  So. Did he follow a potentially wild goose chase based upon the word of a mysterious woman who claimed to hear from God?

  It sounded so crazy. But what if she was right?

  That woman hears from the Lord.

  Ugh. Why couldn’t he get Betty’s words out of his head?

  She gently pulled free from his grasp. “I’m going with or without you.”

  Well, if she was right, he couldn’t let her walk into that kind of situation – whatever it was – alone and unarmed.

  “Where are we going?”

  “There’s an alley…” She closed her eyes. “A fence. She’s trapped behind it. With a man standing guard.”

  “And this alley is…?”

  She looked at him. “God doesn’t give addresses, but He will guide us there.”

  This should be interesting.

  Well, he was in now. He just hoped this didn’t turn out to be a colossal waste of time.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  “There.”

  Zander immediately pulled over to the curb, following her pointing finger to an alley just up the block. A long abandoned apartment building on the left, a meat shop on the right. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. We’ll find a chain link fence about halfway down the alley, with a man standing in front of it. He has a shaved head and tattoo on his arm.”

  Tattoo. He hoped it wasn’t a hand gripping a heart.

  Assuming she was even right.

  The turn-by-turn directions she’d given on the way didn’t inspire much confidence.

  “Wait here.” He pushed open his door and joined the few people on the sidewalk.

  He unsnapped his holster as he approached the alley. Just in case.

  At the mouth of the alley, he paused, then snuck a glance.

  A man leaned against the building about twenty feet from him. Shaved head, sleeveless black shirt, with something on his arm. He was too far away to tell if it was a tattoo, but the location made it likely.

  A section of chain link fencing stretched across a gap between the two buildings behind him.

  Impossible! He couldn’t take his eyes off the man.

  Elly had been right. Down to the smallest detail. But how?

  It couldn’t possibly be the voice of God, could it? No. There must be a more logical explanation. Could she somehow be in league with these guys? Or could Monica have called her and let her know she was in trouble?

  But he’d been with her for twenty minutes prior to her, well, vision or whatever it was. She hadn’t gotten any phone calls.

  Could Monica have called her earlier in the day, before he arrived?

  Unlikely. He doubted this thug was going to spend all day just hanging out in an alley.

  No, more likely, this guy was waiting for someone. Someone who could return at any minute.

  A hand landed on his forearm. “Zander.”

  He jerked, even as he recognized Elly’s voice. “I told you to stay in the car.”

  Creases lined her forehead. “You need to know something. He’s armed. Don’t let him reach for his pocket.”

  Of course the thug was armed. Did she think this was his first time on the streets? He opened his mouth, but she spoke before the sarcastic words could leave it.

  “I know you know this.”

  Man. Could she read his thoughts, too?

  “But trust me. I saw what could happen. If he gets to his pocket, you’ll die. Watch his left hand.”

  Die.

  His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

  Thoughts battled in his head.

  What did she mean she saw what could happen? And why was he even listening to this nonsense?

  Still, she’d been right about everything else so far. Was it really that big of a stretch to think she might know something about this, too?

  Didn’t matter. He’d watch the thug’s hands. Both of them. “Thanks. Now wait in the car.”

  “I’ll make sure no one enters the alley.”

  Not a bad idea. The last thing he needed was someone sneaking up on him from behind. “Fine. But stay here. And if someone comes, don’t get involved. Scream or something, but don’t try to stop him.”

  He didn’t hang out to see if she complied.

  Honestly, he probably didn’t want to know. The woman wasn’t the best at following instructions.

  Especially not ones given for her own good.

  Pulling his badge, he strode down the alley, his attention locked on the man. “Detective Salinas, SFPD. Got a complaint about loitering.”

  “I ain’t hurtin’ no one.”

  With a hand resting on the grip of his gun, Zander appraised him. “What are you doing here?”

  “Just chillin’.”

  “Well, chill somewhere else.” Yep, that tattoo was exactly what he’d thought it would be. Alma Negra.

  The man’s eyes darted behind Zander before returning to him. Probably checking for backup.

  Unless someone was coming up behind him.

  No. Elly had said she’d keep people out. Not that she’d be much of a match for armed thugs, but she’d still probably sound the alarm if someone tried.

  The man’s left hand moved.

  Left hand.

  Zander whipped his gun from the holster as the thought lodged in his mind. “Don’t.”

  The man froze, his fingers inches from the pocket on his baggy jeans.

  “This is the last time I ask nicely.” Zander waved his gun toward the other end of the alley. “Now go.”

  The thug’s eyes narrowed. “This ain’t your concern.”

  “It is now.”

  The pause lasted a beat too long. “You don’t wanna be messin’ in this, homes.”

  “That a threat?”

  “Call it friendly concern.”

  Friendly? Right. If friendly was a knife to the chest.

  The thug’s fingers twitched.

  Zander tightened his grip on the gun. “You reach for the weapon in your pocket and I drop you right there. Now move along.”

  The thug spit on the pavement in front of Zander’s feet. “You ain’t seen the last a me, homey.”

  Clenched fists hanging at his side, the thug whirled and stalked down the alley.

  He’d be back. With friends, next time.

  If Monica was down there, they needed to get her out and do it now.

  He eyed the narrow space between the buildings. Definitely big enough for someone to sneak down.

  He pulled on the fencing. It rattled but didn’t give.

  Well, if Elly was right, Monica had gotten back there somehow.r />
  “Monica? It’s…” Maybe it’d be better if he didn’t identify himself as a cop. “…Zander from the youth center.”

  Silence. No reply or indication that anyone was even listening.

  “Monica?”

  Still nothing.

  Was she really down there or was he just talking to himself?

  Okay, he was starting to feel stupid.

  “Monica, it’s Elly.”

  He jerked as Elly’s hair brushed his arm.

  Man! Was the woman part ninja? She sure was good at getting the drop on him, and that didn’t happen often.

  “Monica, those men will be back soon. We need to hurry.” Urgency lined Elly’s words.

  He studied her face. Slightly pale. Did she know something she hadn’t told him?

  “E-Elly?” A shaky voice came from somewhere in the dimness of the alley. “Is it really safe?”

  “For now. But hurry.”

  “I need to get my stuff.”

  Zander glanced the direction the man had gone. No sign of him. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t hanging out just around the corner, waiting for the opportune time to strike. He kept his gun low and ready.

  Shuffling, then a bang.

  Zander flinched, but kept his attention shifting between the two ends of the alley.

  They were poised to be ambushed.

  No doubt the Alma Negra dude had already called his buddies. There could be a dozen guys headed their way right now.

  Why hadn’t he called Morgan?

  Because Morgan would have laughed at him for following a woman who claimed to hear the voice of God, that’s why. Because he really hadn’t expected this to pan out, much less to cross the Alma Negra.

  “Come on. Hurry.” He muttered, not that Monica could hear him.

  Footsteps echoed down the passageway behind him.

  Still no sign of any gang members. People passed by on the street on either end of the alley, but none even looked their direction.

  He tensed at a hand on his arm.

  “Call for backup.” Elly’s voice, soft but firm, came from behind him.

  After everything that had happened so far, he wasn’t going to ask any questions. He ripped out his radio.

  The chain link clinked.

  He glanced back to see Monica messing with something at the bottom, then redirected his focus to the alley.

  Still empty.

  Behind him, Monica made enough noise to wake the dead. Which they very well might join if she didn’t hurry.

  After giving dispatch their information, he glanced back at Elly. “What do you know?”

  Her purple eyes shifted beyond him. “Trouble.”

  He jerked around. Three men, one of them the guy he’d outed earlier, stood at the mouth of the alley.

  Three against one. Not great odds, especially since they’d all be armed.

  “Elly.” He kept his tone low. “You and Monica get out of here.”

  “We’re trapped.”

  He whipped around. Two guys stood at the other end of the alley.

  Five against one. With two civilians in harm’s way.

  They weren’t just trapped, they were dead.

  Nine

  His eyes flicked to Monica, who’d frozen with the fencing pulled up.

  That fencing might be their only chance.

  Backup was coming, but not fast enough. If he got the ladies on the other side, maybe he could slow these guys down enough to last until his backup arrived.

  He put a hand to Elly’s back. “Behind the fence. Go!”

  She crawled beneath the fencing Monica still held.

  Join them? Or stand his ground?

  One of the men pulled something from his pocket. The sunlight caught the edge of the blade.

  Behind the fence. Most definitely. If any of those guys pulled a gun, he was toast out here in the open.

  He dropped and dragged himself under the fence. The rough chain link scraped down his back, snagging on the end of his shirt.

  Footsteps pounded behind him.

  Twisting, he pawed at the hem of his shirt, dislodging it from the fence.

  He pulled himself through.

  Fire erupted in his right thigh, traveling down almost to his knee.

  “Aagh!” The cry burst from him.

  He didn’t have to look to know what had caused the pain. The knife. Kicking with his uninjured leg, he connected with something solid. A grunt responded to the blow.

  Waves of agony pounded him. Spots danced across his vision.

  Get it together. Elly and Monica were counting on him.

  Hands grasped his and pulled him the rest of the way. His stomach lurched and he swallowed back bile.

  Rattling. Behind him.

  The guys were coming through!

  He blinked and awkwardly twisted around, pointing his gun toward the opening. Monica knelt there, shaking hands securing the bottom.

  The guy he’d kicked was pushing himself up. Two other guys ran toward the fence and yanked on it as Monica fell back.

  The fence held.

  The guy he’d dispatched earlier leaned in, eyes bulging in his red face. “You think that’s gonna stop us? We’ll bust our way through!”

  Of that he had no doubt. And he didn’t have the strength to hold them back.

  All he could hope for was that his backup would arrive before that happened.

  His arms felt heavy. The alley spun slightly as his gun hand drooped.

  He looked at his leg. A bloody gash showed the knife’s trajectory. It started mid-thigh and traveled almost to his knee. He hadn’t just been stabbed, he’d been slashed.

  A bloody smear led from the fence to the pool accumulating beneath him.

  That was a lot of blood. Had they nicked the artery? He’d curse if he had the energy.

  Elly crossed into his vision and knelt beside his legs.

  Between him and the guys at the fence.

  “Elly.” The word came out rough and ragged. “Get behind me.”

  Placing her hands on his thigh, she ignored the order. Her eyes closed and her head tilted upward.

  They were trapped in an alley by a group of armed thugs, he was incapacitated, and she was praying?

  Then again, maybe this was the best time for prayer. Not like he had many other options.

  Closed eyes turned to pinched eyes. Her eyebrows knit together and a tear slid from the corner of one eye, blazing a solo trail down her cheek before being followed by more than he could count.

  He looked down at her hands. They were warm. Warmer than he’d expect.

  His gaze roved from her hands to the cut. Huh, it wasn’t that bad. In fact, the bleeding had stopped.

  The bleeding had stopped. The pain was gone. What the…?

  A gasp slid from her, followed by a short cry.

  Tremors assaulted her body, shaking her shoulders and traveling down her arms. Her hands fell away from his leg.

  She collapsed to the asphalt beneath them.

  What had just happened? The whole thing had taken maybe five seconds, yet those seconds had felt like an eternity.

  Monica ran past them, rounding a corner at the back of the passageway.

  Was there a way out back there?

  Didn’t matter. He needed to get Elly out of here, just in case those guys were armed with more than a knife.

  He touched his leg.

  Still no pain.

  At the end of the alley, one guy pulled out some wire cutters and cut a few links.

  Zander scrambled to his feet and assumed a shooter’s stance. “Stop!”

  One of the guys pulled a gun and fired a shot.

  The bullet hit the building well above his head.

  Okay, so either these guys couldn’t aim or simply hadn’t taken the time to aim. A betting man would choose the latter option.

  Elly hadn’t moved.

  What the heck?

  No time to figure it out now.

  He grabbe
d her beneath her arms and dragged her down the passageway. A low moan escaped her mouth but her eyes didn’t open.

  Another gunshot split the air. He instinctively ducked, but again the bullet went wild.

  Wire cutter guy kept cutting.

  They were going to be through in no time!

  He reached the corner and dragged Elly out of the line of fire. Now to slow them down.

  He leveled his gun at the guy with the wire cutters. “Last warning!”

  The guy kept cutting.

  Zander squeezed off a shot.

  Wire cutter guy howled, the cutters clattering to the asphalt. Red bloomed on his arm, trickling down his bicep.

  The rest of the guys scattered, disappearing from his sight.

  Zander scanned the area around him. It was nothing more than dead space between buildings that someone had tried to make nice. Maybe it had been at one time. Now, however, the dead plants, leaning gazebo, and boarded up buildings screamed death. Not even a fire escape to offer any hope of getting away.

  Monica sat in the gazebo, knees drawn up to her chest, rocking slightly.

  If she was still here, that meant there wasn’t another exit.

  There was only one way out. Through five angry gang members with guns and knives.

  Well, if that was the only option, he just had to hold the Almas off until his backup arrived.

  He peeked around the corner.

  A gunshot sounded, the brick beside his head shooting off chunks as the bullet hit it.

  So much for his theory that they had bad aim. That one had been too close.

  He looked again. Another man had the wire cutters in hand and was quickly cutting through the fencing.

  Before he could bring his gun up, another shot came at him. He jerked back behind the building.

  Elly’s eyes snapped open and locked on him.

  He couldn’t keep her or Monica safe. He’d failed. As he always seemed to.

  “SFPD! Drop the weapon!”

  A shout echoed from the main alley.

  His backup had arrived!

  More shouts, in a variety of voices, evidenced that a number of officers had responded to the distress call.

  “Drop it!”

  “Drop it now!”

  “Hands where I can see them!”

  “On the ground! Do it!”

  He waited for gunfire, but there was none. Maybe the Alma Negra members were doing the smart thing and surrendering.