PRETTY BABY
Audrey Godwin
(c) copyright October 2003, Audrey Godwin
Cover art by Jenny Dixon, (c) copyright October 2003
New Concepts Publishing
5202 Humphreys Rd.
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
Pretty baby, pretty baby. Won’t you come
and let me rock you in your cradle of love,
and we’ll cuddle all the while. I will
be your loving sister, brother, dad and
mother too. Pretty baby of mine, all mine.
Pretty baby of mine.
CHAPTER ONE
Running footsteps thundered down the dark alleyway. He was close. Close enough to smell the bastard’s sweat mingling with the putrid smells of rotting garbage. He splashed through neon-reflected puddles that resembled pools of blood and felt the hot metal from an exploding gun whizzing past him. But he kept going, knocking over metal trash cans and darting through the dappled shadows of the humid night. All at once he heard the clinking sound of a Cyclone fence and could see the dark silhouette hoisting himself up over the top. A foot. He saw a foot and lunged at it before it disappeared out of sight. His fingers were like cords of steel, digging into a bony ankle while it kicked and struggled.
The kid was sweating, the palms of his hand slick and wet. When he felt himself slipping, a flash of panic rose and clawed at his stomach. Desperate to get away, the frantic Hispanic wheeled around and pointed the gun, his nervous finger on the trigger.
For a split second Lieutenant Shadoe Madison stared down the barrel of imminent death. Just as an explosion of gunfire would have destroyed his face, his partner grabbed him from behind and jerked him out of the line of fire. The two men fell backward, Shadoe’s face grazed and bleeding. The hot streak of burning flesh was ignored as he scrambled up, too close to give up now. He tackled the fence again and was climbing up when he felt his partner’s hands on him, jerking him backward.
“What the hell are you doing?” Shadoe yelled, trying to push him away.
The two men struggled together, their faces dripping sweat, their chests heaving for breath.
“Let him go, Madison, let the son of a bitch go!”
“No way in hell!” he yelled, still struggling to get free.
“He’s gone, man, long gone.”
“God … damn!” Shadoe cursed, whirling on his partner. He scowled at him, blood dripping from his wound, and his eyes flashing. “If you hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve had him!”
“No, you wouldn’t you asshole. You would’ve been dead. Besides, he’s faster than you, and he knows these back streets like a native. There’s no way in hell we’ll get him tonight.”
Shadoe buried his face in his hands. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” he shouted, then whirled around and grabbed the fence like a caged animal, peering into the dark shadows beyond. All at once he began kicking the fence with a ferocity that made the last strands of his badly tousled, blue-black hair pull free of the rubber band that held it at the nape of his neck.
Max Parenti, Shadoe’s partner for the night, watched him as he paced with his hands resting on his gun belt. He was like an animal, ready to pounce on anything that moved. He knew the man’s nerves were stretched to the limit. He couldn’t relax and had a heightened alertness that caused his eyes to dart. His mouth, normally full and relaxed, was almost thinned to a straight line, moving slightly as he ground his teeth. He sweat profusely, and was irritable and angry.
Max knew the signs, and they were all there.
Madison was a good cop, but he was stressed out. Hell, they all came to that point at some time in their careers, but everyone else had the good sense to back away. Not Madison. He made excuses, pushed himself until he was dead on his feet and couldn’t think straight. Now he was at the point of making mistakes. Mistakes that could cost him his life. Like tonight.
“Come on, man,” Max said, applying a gentle pressure on his shoulder, “let’s get back to the precinct.”
Shadoe jerked himself away angrily and stalked toward the cruiser. The anger wouldn’t go away. It boiled and festered inside him, giving him a mental picture of a brick wall with every street thug, gang member, and psycho in New York lined up against it. He saw himself holding a submachine gun on them, his sturdy body bucking with the blast of each round. His head ached, the rat-a-tat-tat of the gun exploding inside his brain.
He slumped in the car, his eyes darting around at the dark silhouettes that stalked the nighttime streets. He hated everyone of them. When he couldn’t hold it in any longer he hung himself out the window and yelled at each and every passing goon. “You dirty rotten bastards, I’ll get you, every one of you! If I have to go to prison for the rest of my life, I’ll gun you down like the garbage you are!”
“Madison, for God’s sake,” Max yelled while leaning over and pulling him back into the car. “Would you get hold of yourself? Look at what you’re doing. Listen to yourself.”
Shadoe jerked himself back in and glared at his partner as if he were the enemy. “You heard what I said,” he growled insanely, then lunged toward the window on Max’s side and again yelled at every nameless, faceless silhouette on the street. “I’ll kill the goddamned motherfuckers … every one of them!”
The car skidded and Max stretched his neck to see over Shadoe. “Madison, for God’s sake get in your freakin’ seat. I can’t see a goddamned thing!”
Shadoe pulled back and slumped in his seat, lowering his head to try to rub his headache away.
Max watched him, feeling a stab of compassion for his friend and partner, and spoke softly. “Yeah, pal, we’ll get ’em just like you said, but first we need to get back to the station and give the captain our report. Okay?”
Shadoe didn’t reply, just sat in his seat, his intense gaze hot enough to set fire to every filthy creep he saw. He knew he could pick any one at random and find a rap sheet longer than Broadway from end to end.
They finally arrived at the station and Max quickly emerged from the car to try to help Shadoe, but the anger he was feeling was like a shield around him and he wouldn’t let his partner touch him. He staggered into the station like a drunk man, not realizing that Max had hurried into the captain’s office and stayed in there for twenty minutes.
They both stood at the window looking out at Shadoe who was chewing pencil erasers by the dozens. His movements were abrupt and angry. He kicked the office furniture, yelled at anyone who said anything to him, and barked over the telephone when he answered it.
“He can’t go on like this, Captain,” Max said. “He’s coming apart at the seams. I’m afraid he’s gonna kill someone, or get himself killed.”
“I’ll handle it,” the captain said, turning away from the window. “Call him in here.”
Max turned, but stood at the door, hesitating for a moment.
“You did the right thing, Parenti.”
“I hope so,” Max said, then turned to walk out. As he made his way through the crowded desks, he tried to deal with his sudden resemblance to a stoolie. Hell, he argued with himself, why should he feel guilty about trying to help the bum? Sure, he’d squealed, but Madison was coming apart before his very eyes. He had to say something. Besides, it was for the creep’s own good, he told himself. When he arrived at the desk he watched while Shadoe tried to cram a sheet of paper into a typewriter. “Hey, man, you don’t have to do that. I’ll make out the report. That’s my job, remember?”
“Whatever,” Shadoe snarled, yanking the paper out so hard it ripped. The torn paper was just one more thing to grate on his nerves, so with frenzied movements he angrily wadded it up and threw it across the room.
“Better change your attitude. The ca
ptain wants to see you.”
“Yeah?” Shadoe snarled, jumping up and looking his partner in the eye. “It couldn’t be that some sneaky cop tipped him off, could it?”
“Shadoe… I was....” Max began.
“Save it!” Shadoe snapped. Giving Max one last piercing look, he turned, roughly kicking his chair, indifferent to its collision with the other furniture. Shoving his partner out of the way, he groggily wove his way through desks until he stood at the captain’s open door, glaring.
“Come in, Madison,” the captain said without looking up. “Close the door.”
Shadoe stepped in, slammed the door behind him.
“So,” the captain began, while putting away the file he was working on and looked up at Shadoe, “how long has it been since you had a woman?”
Shadoe stared at him, his face a scowling pattern of light and shadow. “You brought me in here to ask me about my fuckin’ love life?”
He could see that Shadoe was on the edge, so he tried to keep it light. “Anybody you’re seein’ right now? What about that little senorita … what was her name?”
“She’s yesterday’s news.”
“Yeah? Too bad. I seem to remember you taking a bite or two out of that little enchilada, right?”
Shadoe eyed him, his irritation growing. “Captain, what the hell is this? You didn’t bring me in here to shoot the fuckin’ breeze. Now, what is it that’s on your mind?”
The captain scooted forward in his chair and leaned over his desk. “Okay, if that’s the way you want it. What the hell happened tonight? Max tells me you showed your butt to the world.”
“Oh, God, here we go again, that same song and dance.”
“Come on, Madison, level with me. You getting stressed out again, or just need a woman in your bed? Which is it?”
“So I got a little angry, so what? The bastard got away, for God’s sake. Wouldn’t you get angry?”
“Madison, getting angry, and going crazy are two different things. Parenti gave me a vivid description of you hanging out of the car window threatening the goddamned population.”
Shadoe’s face took on a look of deadly anger as he urged himself forward and looked the captain in the eye. “All right, so I went a little crazy. I was close, Captain, so fuckin’ close I could smell him. His sweat, his fear, his stinking feet! I had him right here!” Shadoe shouted while holding out the palm of a clawlike hand. “With him that close how could I give up?” His eyes danced as they continued to pierce those of his captain. “You can count on one thing,” Shadoe said, making a dark promise. “I’ll get that little creep, and when I do--” his voice dropped to a soft threat, “--I’ll bring his head to you on a platter!”
The captain’s face paled. “You’re off the case.”
Shadoe jumped up. “What the fuck...?”
“You heard me. As of right now you’re off the case. In fact I want you to take some time off. A couple of weeks … a month … however long it takes to get your head on straight.”
He leaned over the captain’s desk. “Hell, Captain, I can’t....”
“You’re driving everyone crazy, Madison. This is the second time you’ve gone nuts while trying to apprehend a felon. Look at your face. Parenti tells me if he hadn’t pulled you away, you’d be dead now.”
“And you’re gonna believe him?” Shadoe yelled. “If he’d just left me alone I....”
“You’d be dead,” the captain finished for him. “I’m telling you right now that if you don’t get out of here and get some rest I’m gonna lock you up where you won’t have anything to do but sleep and jerk off.”
Shadoe began pacing, his agitation chewing at him while he rubbed the back of his neck. “Come on, Captain, you’re getting excited over nothing. I feel fine. I’m jus--”
“Madison, you’re a good cop, one of the best, but no man can work twenty-four hours a day and not have it affect him. Hell, I can’t even send you home and depend on you to stay there. Before I know it you’re back here pushing your nose into things that don’t concern you and I’m tired of it. So … you can make up your mind right now what it’s gonna be. Fishing on a nice sunny lake, or a criminal record.”
Shadoe shrugged, a frown etching his face. “What the hell will I do? I’ll go crazy.”
“Damn, Madison, do I have to map it out for you? Do what anyone does on a vacation. Fish, hunt, swim. Take a cruise, for God’s sake, or go back to the reservation and check it out.” Lowering his voice, the captain said, “Find a nice little squaw and do what comes naturally, huh? Sound good?”
“This is crazy. I can’t leave now, I’ve got a desk piled....”
Tired of his arguments, the captain rose immediately, flung the door open and put his head through it. “Hey!” he yelled into the bull pit. “Somebody get me a pair of cuffs!” He looked back at Shadoe and saw him arch an eyebrow. “Don’t believe me, huh? Well, watch this.” He lifted his hands and caught the twin circles of clinking metal as they came hurtling out of nowhere, then turned toward Shadoe, the cuffs lifted threateningly. “When I give you an order, I expect it to be carried out … one way or another.”
Just about that time Shadoe saw several more of his officer buddies enter slowly, Max one of them, and take their place on each side of the captain. It was an intimidating sight, and small barbs of discomfort prickled down his spine.
Shadoe stepped back and smiled vaguely, unsure of the crowd around him. “Hey. guys, you’re not really gonna do this, are you?” When the officers kept coming, he looked at each one, seeing a fierce determination in their stride. “Is this fair?” he yelled, looking from one to the other. “You’re ganging up on me for God’s sake.” All at once Shadoe made a sudden move, hoisting his gun out of its holster. “All right,” he rasped, “get back you creeps or I’ll blow you away. Nobody’s puttin’ me in a fuckin’ jail cell for trying to do my job.”
“Madison, put the damned gun away,” the captain ordered. “You know you’re not going to use it.”
“Yeah?” Shadoe muttered, “Well that’s where you’re wrong, Captain.”
“You’re not a killer, Madison. A little crazy, maybe, but you’re not a killer.”
Shadoe’s eyes flickered at the truth in the captain’s words, then made a quick move and pressed the barrel to his temple. “So I’m not a killer, huh? How many of you are in the mood to see my brain splattered all over the ceiling?”
“Madison,” the captain growled, a hint of exasperation in his voice, “why in hell is it that every time we want you to take some time off we go through this same song and dance? You’re not going to shoot yourself, so put the damned gun back in your holster and let’s dispense with the dramatics.”
Knowing it was no use, Shadoe gave up and strode toward them while plunging the gun back in his holster. He brutally pushed at the hard bodies that resembled a human wall. “Get the hell out of my way,” he growled, “I’m not staying somewhere I’m not wanted.” Finally getting beyond the circle, he stopped and whirled on the men. “A man tries to do his fuckin’ job and what does he get? Heartaches!”
The remark caused a few snickers among the men. Then the captain spoke up. “What the hell is that, your Barney Fife impression?”
“Wisecracks! That’s all I hear outta you creeps.” He pointed to his captain. “You just remember this. You threw me out, and it’ll be a cold day in hell before you see me walkin’ back through that door.”
“Always with the threats, huh Madison? Hell, all we want is for you to take the time you have coming to you.”
“You’re kicking me out on my butt, you mean!” he growled while turning and stalking down the hall to the front door. He slammed it open, then passed through it, leaving the captain and his men to stare after him.
“Well,” the captain said, then turned and slumped down in his chair with a loud groan, “crisis over. Thanks, guys.”
A new recruit looked around, smiling incredulously. “What the hell was that all about?”
>
“You’ll get used to it,” the captain said. “It’s just that we have to kick Madison out about every six months.”
The recruit chuckled. “Why? I mean, what the hell’s his problem?”
The Captain angled a look at him while lighting a cigarette. After taking a long, much-needed draw, he squinted his eyes toward the rookie, his next words accompanied by escaping smoke. “Shadoe Madison is one of the best and smartest cops I’ve ever known,” he said. “If you follow his example, you’ll make a damn good cop. I’ll admit Madison has his moments of madness, but he handles a lot of cases … you know, undercover shit … sees a lot. After a time it gets to him. Hell, when you look at bloody photographs day in and day out … young girls, children--” a flicker of pain shadowed the captain’s eyes, “--it … it’s bound to do something to you.”
“Yeah,” the recruit said softly, feeling stupid. “Yeah, I guess so. Well, I’ll … I’ll just get back to work.”
There was no response from the captain as the recruit turned and shuffled out. Instead he sat beneath a circle of smoke, quietly thinking about Shadoe, and wondering why they weren’t all stark raving mad. But Shadoe’s job was harder. He went undercover, so he had to become one of them. Get down on their level and rut like pigs, learn how they live, go with them into their holes and hear them brag about the raping and killing of women and children. If Shadoe went a little crazy once in a while, he could certainly understand why. With the images of death floating around in his mind, he always threatened never to come back, but he always did. And then it would start all over again, the time fast approaching when Shadoe would have to get away from it for a while.
He stared into the gloom of a dusky office, and whispered, “Get it all out of your system you stubborn asshole, then hurry back for more of the same.” A deep sigh escaped his throat as he looked thoughtfully at the burning ashes on the tip of his cigarette.
* * * *
The next day, with nothing more than a large Band-Aid on his cheek, Shadoe fooled around town for a while, then stopped by a travel bureau called Horizons. He sauntered in and flipped through a few brochures. He was looking at one about a castle in Ireland when his eye caught a beautiful crimson color. The little pamphlet was turned askew from the others, and revealed a picturesque little place on the front called Scarlet Bay Inn. He figured it must have been misplaced among all the cruises and faraway places, and picked it up. It was located on the coast of Georgia. Not far away, yet far enough. Inside was a driving map, and a short piece on the legend surrounding the inn. He was intrigued, so he decided to talk to one of the travel agents to learn a little more about it.
Pretty Baby Page 1