by Makenzi Fisk
They jounced across the bumpy field and Erin’s teeth rattled against each other, her body slamming back and forth against her seatbelt. “Ho-ly cr-cr-crap! S-slow down!”
“Most fun I’ve had in ages!” Gonzales’ delighted grin lit up his face. “Why don’t you notify Lockwood of our location? Suspects might still be out here somewhere. Look, there’s an outbuilding.”
She tried to text the coordinates, but touching the right spots on her phone’s screen was impossible when she was being continually jarred.
“Why don’t you phone her? Tell her to watch for the flare.” He shook his head. “She doesn’t know what to do with texts and it’ll take her forever to reply.”
Erin steadied her hand long enough to hit Lockwood’s contact icon and put the call on speaker.
“Whaddya got?” Agent Lockwood was all business, pleasantries were a waste of valuable time.
“We f-found ti-tire t-tracks. No-orth of th-the—” Erin scowled at Gonzales. “S-slow d-own!”
“What in tarnation is wrong with you?” Lockwood’s voice boomed over the tinny speaker. “You find a bouncy castle or something? Dang it, what’s going on?”
Gonzales shrugged sheepishly and slowed enough for Erin to catch her breath.
“My apologies, ma’am. We’ve spotted recent tire tracks approximately two miles north of the road block location. We’re following them west across a field. Nothing yet, but we wanted to keep you apprised of the possibility that this is the route they took.”
“You find any other indicators of our suspect, or are you going on pure gut instinct, Ericsson?”
“Uh, a little of both?” The line was silent. Lockwood needed more. “Well, given the timing of their disappearance, coupled with the possible escape routes, and the areas that have been covered so far, this is most likely.”
“What else?” The old crocodile was not making this easy.
“Umm, judging from an approximation of the track width, the vehicle we’re following is slightly smaller than our Chevy. The marks we were able to see, when it disturbed the soil, indicate a shorter wheelbase, and corresponding turning radius, which is also consistent with the suspect vehicle.”
“Anything else?” Lockwood was persistent. No stone unturned, literally.
“These tracks veered off the main road and hit the ditch at a fairly high rate of speed, considering the rough terrain. Someone was in a hurry, or they made an impulsive decision, or both. This fits our situation, and it fits Lily. She doesn’t seem to be much of a planner, ma’am.” Erin felt as if she’d finished an impromptu exam, and she probably had.
“Very well, exercise caution, and I’m talking to you too, Gonzales. If you spot anything, wait for backup. I don’t want to attend either of your funerals.”
A moment later, they approached the Quonset building Gonzales had spotted in the distance. “Something’s on fire.” He pointed to a fine trail of dark smoke curling skyward.
Abandoned behind the structure was the car they’d been searching for, smoke trickling through the rear window molding. Erin called it in, and backed off to a safe vantage point.
Minutes later, the sun breached the horizon and a white 4x4 truck with a reinforced push bumper poked its way across the field. It parked beside them and Lockwood spilled out the passenger door. “Dang, Marty! You get the economy shocks on this truck? That ride rearranged my giblets.”
The trooper raised his eyebrows in genuine concern. “Awful sorry, Shirley. I took it as easy as I could.”
Out of her sight line, Gonzales waggled his eyebrows at Erin. “Shirley,” he whispered. “No one calls her by her first name. No one.”
Lockwood laughed and slammed the door behind her. Gonzales rolled down his window when she approached.
“Ericsson, how about you and me go have a look-see? The forensics people are on the way, so keep your paws off anything you don’t absolutely have to touch. Gonzales and my new friend Marty can provide backup.
Gonzales shot Erin another covert expression of disbelief. He mouthed the word, “Marty.”
Erin approached on foot, shotgun to her shoulder. One side of the Quonset had collapsed, its dilapidated door hanging sideways. Lockwood trotted over, and peeped through when Erin shone her light inside. It was empty.
When Lockwood opened the driver’s door of the car, blue smoke billowed out. She ducked away from the dark cloud. “Idiots tried to torch the evidence but didn’t make sure there was enough air for it to catch. Thank the Lord no one’s in there.” She pulled the trunk release so Gonzales could check the back.
“Marty, you got a—?” She stepped back when the trooper aimed his fire extinguisher through the door to blanket the smoldering seat. “Of course you do.” She smiled at him and he blushed, running a nervous hand through his thinning hair.
Hidden behind the raised trunk, Gonzales waggled his eyebrows at Erin again. Erin frowned back. What was this? Grade five?
He slammed the trunk down with gloved hands, and opened the rear door. “Trash, fast food containers,” he called out, “a lot of empty beer bottles, and pills spilled under the seat. Some might be prescription narcotics.” He cocked his head. “Not sure what the others are.”
Lockwood shielded her eyes from the morning sun. “There appears to be blood in the back. The boy, Trenton something or other, was struck by the gas station owner. It’s probably his. Looks like you’re right, Ericsson. If the boy’s in the back seat, she’s up front, and the power balance has shifted.”
She squatted to examine the exit tracks leading away from the scene, and the trooper followed her sight line. “Marty, would you be so kind as to have your office check ownership of this property, and get us a description of the vehicle that might have been here? I’d bet breakfast that our fugitives traded this little junker in for a pickup with a key left in the ignition.” She stood. “It’s been four hours. They could be halfway to Vegas by now.”
“What if they turned around?” Erin couldn’t imagine what Lily would do in the Nevada desert. Her roots were in the swamp.
“Why in the world would you think that?” Lockwood used the toe of her shoe to nudge an empty beer can in the grass. Its faded condition implied it had pre-dated this event. “Their route has been consistent. They’re headed southwest, maybe Vegas, maybe even as far as the west coast.”
“They may not be headed southwest any more,” Erin said. “If Lily’s in control now, she may have changed direction.”
“You figure she doubled back?” Lockwood’s keen attention was unnerving.
“It’s a possibility.” Erin turned at the squeak of shocks. A tow truck navigated the ruts in the field, and a sport utility vehicle marked Ident Unit followed in its wake.
Lockwood spoke to the forensic tech for a moment while he took photos and made a cursory check of the vehicle.
Marty cleared his throat. “When we’re done here, Shirley, I can recommend a fine spot for debriefing.”
“Does this spot serve bacon?” A dazzling smile lit up her face and took years off her age.
“It surely does.” The trooper gallantly held open his passenger door, and she stepped in. “Patriot, ten miles back, just off the main highway,” he hollered, before he hopped in the driver’s seat.
Gonzales raised an eyebrow to Erin but this time he mouthed bacon . “Let’s go,” he said.
Through the steamed window glass, Patriot Diner’s outdoor sign was lit up in neon letters, and it was indeed an appropriate spot for the group of empty-handed Bureau agents to meet with local authorities. The aroma alone made her mouth water after the long night of beating every bush between Ogden and the Idaho border.
Erin excused herself to make a call when the conversation became circular. They couldn’t understand how the criminal duo had eluded The Bureau, as well as local law enforcement from the north. Erin knew the answer. No one was at fault; Lily was a force of nature.
She pressed her ear to her cell phone and turned away from the group seated at the tab
le. “How’s the weather out there?”
“Raining like the dickens,” Z-man said.
She imagined water running down the windshield of his cruiser as they spoke, and it made her homesick. “You think the rain’s going to hurt the rhubarb?”
“Rhubarb. Ha! Why did you really call, munchkin? You miss me?”
“Of course I miss you, and Gina, and Li’l Z.” She examined the dirt under her fingernails. It was impossible to concentrate with that staring back. The germs alone…
She headed for the checkout to search for a toothpick. Allie would say her OCD was getting out of hand, and she should learn to let some things slide. After a day like this, anyone would understand that Erin needed her control back.
“How is your training officer? Learning a lot?” Zimmerman suddenly sounded less like a friend, and more like a mentor.
“I have two, so I’m the annoying third wheel. Gonzales knows his stuff.”
At the table, Gonzales pointed to something on his computer tablet and the others leaned in. Lockwood put on her glasses and frowned at the screen.
“And there’s a crocodile named Shirley Lockwood.” Erin smirked when Lockwood shoved the computer tablet aside and unfolded a huge map. “I’ve never met anyone in this field so resistant to technology. She’s a hard ass, but maybe I’ve spent too many years working on my own.”
“Ha, ha. That was you a few years ago before you met Allie. You couldn’t even tie your own virtual laces.” Zimmerman tapped on a keyboard. “Lockwood. Shirley Lockwood. I’ve heard of her.” He tapped some more. “Yup, she was the agent involved in that case with the girl held captive for a decade, followed the case long after everyone else gave up, and was the one to finally pull the kid out of that basement herself.”
“I don’t recall hearing about that.” Erin’s estimation of Lockwood rose a notch.
“It was a long time ago. In the mid-eighties.”
“No wonder. I was a baby then.” She’d still been playing with colored blocks.
“Remember the kidnapping of that family in Colorado?”
“Three police officers were killed, and a bunch wounded in the standoff, but not one Bureau agent.” Erin had been in university when the media followed that case for the entire week. The world cheered when the family was pulled unharmed from a madman’s doomsday bunker. Then they mourned the fallen officers, and cursed the criminal who finally gave himself up to a female agent. She stole a glance at the authoritative woman, stabbing at a map with her index finger. “That was her too?”
“Yup,” Zimmerman said. “She was involved in a lot of other high profile cases. She’s determined, and has a reputation for following her instincts, no matter what anyone else says. Sound like someone you know? Here’s a hint, look in the mirror, girl. I’d consider you lucky to be learning from her.”
Lecture completed, his voice softened. “So, how’s the search for Lily going?” He’d heard, of course he’d heard. Z-man had contacts everywhere.
This was not something Erin wanted her trainers to know she was discussing outside their ranks. On her way out to the lobby, she plucked a toothpick from a little bowl beside the cashier.
“We lost her in Utah,” she whispered. “We were so close, and then she disappeared.” She ripped open the plastic wrap, and held the phone with her shoulder so she could scrape out the guck under her thumbnail. Satisfied, she started on the next finger. She’d finish, get a new toothpick and start all over. It was not something she could control when she was stressed. If she’d had time for a run, it might have helped.
“The guys at the station have been following her crime spree across three states, since she and that boy escaped. It’s like our own super bowl, with crews betting against each other on how long it takes the FBI to catch them. Wait until someone leaks it to the media.”
Erin groaned. “I can see the headlines now. Raging Ranger and FBI trainers on the trail of poor misunderstood teenagers.”
“Nobody calls you that around here anymore, not in front of me anyway. If you ask me, the guys are actually kind of proud of you. Especially Bert and Ernie.”
“Is Bert enjoying Ident? Word is he aced his course. He’s a natural.” Erin kept any hint of jealousy out of her voice. She’d been gunning for that job before her career took a right turn to the FBI Academy.
“Ernie is walking by my office now.” His voice suddenly sounded far away. “You wanna say hi, Muppet Man?”
“Oh, I assumed you were in your car.” Erin’s homesick romantic view of Morley Falls PD shuffled to a different backdrop. She heard a faint “hey kid” from Ernie in the distance.
“Nah, no more night patrols. I’m the boss man now,” Zimmerman said. “I get to sit inside, read reports and drink coffee,” he said in a monotone. “Big fun.”
“Allie thinks we missed Lily because she doubled back,” Erin blurted, unable to contain it any longer. “She’s headed to Morley Falls. If it’s true, I’m worried about Allie, I’m worried about my family, I’m worried about your family.”
“Allie said that? Lily is coming here?” There was a pause and Zimmerman’s voice muffled as he held his hand over the receiver. “Can I help you with anything else, Ernie?” His voice came back on the line. “That boy is either lazy tonight, or I’d swear he was hanging around to listen in.”
“Wasn’t Derek his training officer? That kind of bond runs deep.” A hum of activity inside the restaurant signaled that the impromptu meeting had ended. She hoped the twenty she’d left on the table had been enough to cover her share. Things were more expensive away from Morley Falls. “Are they still in touch?”
“You’re right. That sneaky little Muppet is probably phoning Derek to tell him right now. If this doesn’t coax him out of his hidey-hole in the swamp, I don’t know what will.” His chair squeaked. “I’ll buy Ernie breakfast if he gets that drunk in here for an interview about our murder.”
She imagined him leaning back in the sergeant’s executive chair, with his humongous feet splayed in front of him. “How many critters did the department let you move into your office?” She’d wager half his lizard collection had been set up under a heat lamp on the big bookcase.
“You psychic or something?” He laughed, a pleasantly deep rumble that she missed terribly. “You guessed right. My best boys Merlin and Picasso are here.” His voice took on an indulgent tone, the same one he used on his toddler son. “The new guys are at home under lock and key from Mikey who wants to be their best friend.”
“I can’t remember,” Erin quipped. “Is Merlin the hamster and Picasso the python—?”
“Merlin is my spotted gecko, and…” Zimmerman huffed. “Don’t you ever tire of that joke?”
“You fall for it every time, buddy.” Erin laughed. It was good to talk to her best friend.
“Seriously, when you convince your hotshot FBI trainers that Lily is headed back here, I’ll be happy to coordinate the setup of a temporary field office in our boardroom. No one uses that damn place anyway. I’d love to meet the legendary Agent Lockwood, and of course everyone misses your shining face.”
“Thanks, Z.” In the meantime, she knew Zimmerman would stay on top of their search for Lily and her accomplice. “Give Gina a hug from me.”
“Give it to her yourself when you get here.”
“Can you do me a favor and keep an eye on Allie for me? She sounded jumpy the last time we spoke and I’m sure she’s concerned about Lily too.”
“Yeah, Gina said she seemed out of sorts when she came in to the Stop ’N Go the other night,” he said. “But don’t worry, we’re staying close.”
Bills paid, Lockwood entered the lobby as Erin was finishing her call. “Thanks for breakfast, Ericsson,” she quipped as she marched past Erin. “Gonzales will fill you in on what you missed.”
“You’re welcome… thank you… no problem… I’m sorry?” Erin’s tongue tangled in the multi responses, far too many of them apologetic. What was it about Lockwood that made
her nervous? No, not nervous. Intimidated. Lockwood was perceptive, direct, unapologetic, and so competent that she was weak in comparison. Like a bare-naked baby in a thicket of brambles. In fact, it reminded her of Auntie Vicky.
She smiled. She’d cut her teeth on her boisterous aunt’s bear-fighting stories, some of which might even be true. It was hard to tell, because there were always subtle changes in the way she told them. The only parts of the story that remained unchanged were that, as a young girl, she had indeed chased off a bear and saved her little sister, Erin’s mom.
She may or may not have had a butter knife, or a hatchet, or a stick, and may or may not have screamed loud enough to split the heavens open and bring down Zeus the God of Thunder to help her.
When Erin was little, she remembered hiding under the table, wide-eyed and trembling in fear, during the telling of that story. It felt a little like that now, and she hoped that she would grow to like Lockwood a fraction as much as she had grown to love her strong, crazy, Auntie Vicky.
“Are you coming, Ericsson?” Gonzales tilted his head, and handed her a handful of plastic-wrapped toothpicks. “Here’s a few more for the road.” He held the door open.
“I know the fingernail thing is—” She was acutely aware of the heat rising in her cheeks. How long had he been watching her? Would this go in his report? Would she destroy her career before it began?
“My brother does the same thing, only with him it’s hand washing.” Gonzales shrugged. “It’s a disorder and he can’t stop, even when his skin bleeds. It messes him up so bad he can’t hold a job. Yours seems more like a nervous habit. We’ve all got our kryptonite. You, me, Lockwood.”
“What’s her kryptonite?”
In the parking lot, the senior agent looked annoyed to be kept waiting, a frown creasing her brow deeper than ever.
“That’s for her to tell you, or you to figure out on your own.” He tossed her the keys. “Time to face your fear, grasshopper. I’ll hop in the back.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Hello? Lieutenant?”