by Jack Hunt
“How old?”
“Couldn’t tell yah exactly.”
“Where’s she live?”
“Couldn’t tell yah.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “Ah, like that, is it?”
He nodded. “I met her mother when she passed through Whittier about twenty years ago. She was on a cruise. We hit it off, drank a bit too much and well one thing led to another and…” he trailed off. “Anyway, I get this envelope in the mail six months later to say she had gotten pregnant. She told me she didn’t want anything from me and neither did she want me to be in the kid’s life but she wanted me to know it was a girl and she’d called her Milly.”
“And?”
“And that’s it. I never heard from her again.”
“Man, I’m sorry, that’s gotta suck.”
“I guess. You don’t miss what you never had, right?”
“I know but damn. That’s harsh.” Alex finished doing up his shirt buttons and started to put on his tie. “Why go to all the trouble of telling you that if she didn’t want you to be involved in her life?”
“She figured my life was too complicated. That or she thought I drank too much.”
He nodded but decided not to question him on that. It wasn’t like he was any better. After the loss of his son, he’d dealt with the grief at the bottom of a bottle. It didn’t last long though, eventually he had to step up to the plate when he saw Jess spiraling down. If he hadn’t quit, there was no telling what might have happened.
Kip continued, “Truth is, I wasn’t drinking much back then. She just caught me on a bad night.”
“I’ve had a few of those.”
“I’m sure you have,” he said before turning his attention to the faucet. Alex slipped into his ballistic vest that had the word POLICE emblazoned across the front in white.
“Feels good, don’t it?”
“What?”
“To feel useful,” Kip said.
“Damn right it does.”
Kip chuckled. “Well don’t expect much action around here, at least not at the level you were operating at.”
Alex smiled and stepped back into the bathroom. “Kip. You mind telling me what happened across the way? In apartment 1002?”
He stopped wrenching on the pipe and rose to his feet. An eyebrow rose. “They didn’t tell you about that?”
“About?”
He nodded and pursed his lips before trying the faucet. It kicked out more murky water but it soon changed. “The position you’re taking is to replace an officer who committed suicide.”
“In that room?”
“No. That belonged to his closest friend. Apparently, and I’m only going by rumors swirling in this town, Greg Mitchell, the occupant, had some grow operation going on, there was even talk about heroin and whatnot. Anyway, there was some big shootout and Greg was killed. Seems Danny couldn’t live with the guilt and shot himself at the station, same day.”
“Shit.”
“Yep, but that’s not the worst of it. Danny Lee, the officer that took his life, was extremely close to Solomon. Guy treated him like his own son. Broke the guy’s heart after his death. Don’t say anything but he hasn’t been the same since. I mean people think I drink a lot but that’s nothing compared to Solomon. He’s often the last one out of the Anchor Inn at night and the last two weekends he hasn’t made it back into town. Some say he’s starting to lose it. I just notch it up to grief. Danny was a good man. You have big shoes to fill.”
“Great. Now I feel the pressure.”
Kip laughed and turned off the faucet. “Right. That’s that. The light I’ll check in a minute. Where’s this other leak?”
“In the bedroom. I’ll show you.”
Kip carried his tools and Alex led him in, and pointed to the corner of the room.
“That’s odd.”
“What is?” Alex asked.
“Well…” Kip stepped back out of the room and looked up as if he was following something. “The pipes for each of the apartments run along this wall. If there was a leaky pipe, you would probably see it on this side of the room.”
“Maybe someone spilled something on the floor above,” Jess said.
“Possible. Anyway, I’ll take a look.” He crossed the room and pulled up a chair and took out a flashlight and pushed up on the ceiling tile. “Holy cow that’s heavy.” He gave it a hard shift and then shone his light into the dark, cramped space between the ceiling and the next floor. “Well what the hell have we got here?” He fumbled with the flashlight and then asked Alex to hold on to it. “That’s it, give me a bit more light up here.”
Kip slid back the tile and yanked on some green material and a huge duffel bag dropped down into his arms. On one end of it was a large wet patch as if a drink had leaked inside of it. He hopped off the chair and crouched down to open the zipper. As soon as he pulled it back, Alex’s eyes widened.
Chapter 7
The bitch had seen too much. Had she kept her nose out of their business she might have survived. Leon dragged the owner across the kitchen floor. A week earlier she’d given him this big spiel over the phone about how she’d taken over the place and rebranded it as a health and wellness retreat. Leon had called to book a room on the fifteenth floor, in what was originally called June’s Condo Suites, in the hopes of finding the heroin. It was worth over sixty million on the black market, and most of it was already accounted for, that’s why it couldn’t be overlooked. Leon, Pat and Jimmy had come down a few days earlier to see what they could find out. While they’d never been in Greg Mitchell’s apartment until one day ago, they knew him well. He’d been one of their most trusted dealers on the streets of Anchorage before moving back to Whittier to take care of an ailing father. That was ten years ago. That move had presented ideas, one of which was thought up by Greg himself.
“Give me a hand, will yah?” he said to Pat who was smoking a joint as Leon removed the lampstand’s power cord from around Theresa’s throat. She’d shown up banging on the door early that morning because Pat had ordered in two escorts the night before and someone must have squealed. He recalled the conversation with her only hours earlier.
“I don’t run that kind of establishment. Now I want all of you out of here.”
“Listen, lady, you must have us mistaken for some other guys as we didn’t order in anyone. It’s just us. We’re down here to hike and fish, that’s it.”
The frail-looking woman wagged her finger in his face with no idea of who she was dealing with. Behind the door, Pat and Jimmy were smirking, making gestures about cutting her throat. But that wasn’t his way. Unlike the others he preferred to use violence as a last resort. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy squeezing the life out of someone or putting a bullet through their skull — hell, he’d done it enough to people and not missed a wink of sleep, however under the circumstances they had to use a bit more tact. Unfortunately she wouldn’t listen. Problem was she’d forced her way inside wanting to search the place. Now the hookers had already left two hours before that so there was no fear of her finding them but it wasn’t them that caused her death, it was the Beretta on the kitchen table. She nearly had a coronary when she spotted it.
Before she could get a word out, Leon blindsided her with a fist to the head and then used the cord from one of the lampstands to strangle her to death. He couldn’t have her rushing out and bringing the cops down on them. Cayden was clear that they weren’t to leave until they found his drugs.
“Tough old broad,” Pat said. “She didn’t go quickly.”
“Just give me a hand,” he said. He dragged her lifeless body into the middle of the living room and then pulled a knife and cut the carpet around her so he could roll her up. They would take her out back once it was dark and dump her body and let the bears handle the rest. After they would search her records for their booking and get rid of any trace of them being there. It wasn’t like it was the first time they’d killed.
“You should have seen her f
ace when she laid eyes on that gun. I thought she was going to shit herself,” Jimmy added. Pat laughed.
Pat and Jimmy were brothers. Pat was the older of the two, he towered over Jimmy, a gangly sonofabitch with more legs than upper body. Jimmy was the complete opposite, short, pure muscle. Leon would wind them up and say they came from two different mothers as the resemblance just wasn’t there. Leon on the other hand was square faced, flat nosed with round eyes and wavy hair. His nose had been busted up from one too many scraps as a kid and had never fully set right, so it was slightly off to the side. Those who poked fun at him while he was growing up had been quickly dealt with. He was the scrapper of the bunch, someone who enjoyed getting his knuckles bloody and being hands-on when it came to killing a person. Pat liked his knives, and Jimmy didn’t care how he killed, but those who died by his hand were unrecognizable when it was over.
Jimmy stood by the window looking out through binoculars that were left on the windowsill by the owner for whale watching. “You think Cayden will get here? What with the weather and all?”
“If he says he’s coming he’ll be here,” Leon said.
They rolled the woman like a pita, turning her over until she disappeared inside the drab-looking carpet. Once it was done they stepped back and stared down at their handiwork. Pat handed Leon a half-smoked joint and he took a hard pull and exhaled a cloud.
The lights flickered above, and Leon looked up. He groaned. This was the last place he wanted to be because he’d told his gal he was planning on taking her away, somewhere warm. At the last minute Cayden called and asked him to do a run. He’d argued back and forth that the chances of finding the drugs were slim to none — more than likely the cops had them in storage — but Cayden seemed unfazed. That was just like him. It didn’t matter what obstacle was in his path, Cayden didn’t see it. Perhaps that was why he’d stuck with him so long. They’d known each other from their days in school. Even as far back as then they’d dabbled in the illegal, mostly petty crime, breaking into vehicles and factories in Anchorage, all low-key stuff but it had given them a taste for it. Cayden had been driven by the thrill of the hunt. It was like a drug to him, and in some ways if he was honest, Leon enjoyed it too. Both of them had dropped out of school, never got their GED but they didn’t care because by the age of seventeen they were stealing cars and selling them privately on the black market and pocketing the lion’s share. Sitting in a chair across from the dead woman, taking turns toking on the joint, he thought back to those days, how simple and easy it all was. There was no bloodshed, no territory issues, the insurance companies covered the loss of vehicles for the original owners and they were turning a tidy profit. But that was twenty years ago, long before Cayden had made connections, and aspired to make a name. Now their hands were covered in blood, their consciences scarred and they were forever looking over their shoulder. It wasn’t just the police they had to worry about but guys like them — those looking to make a name for themselves. They weren’t getting any younger, and it was only a matter of time before their luck ran out. The question of who would end their string of luck was still to be answered.
Jimmy turned towards Leon as they sat there waiting for Cayden to show.
“I still don’t get it. I mean you told him we couldn’t find it. What does he hope to achieve coming all the way down here?” he asked.
Leon was still lost in thought when Pat replied.
“All I know is some people are going to die,” he said reaching for a bottle of beer and knocking it back. He jabbed his finger at Jimmy. “And when he does show up. Keep your trap shut. I don’t want you putting your foot in your mouth like you did back in July.”
“What? I was just being honest.”
“Yeah and that honesty is liable to get you killed, brother.”
“Please. You act like you’re afraid of him.”
“You should be,” Leon said without taking his eyes off the roll of carpet in front of him. He then looked at Jimmy. “You want to stay above ground, I would strongly advise you to heed the word of your brother.”
“Fair enough. But tell me this, Leon. You’ve known Cayden longer than any of us. Why do you stick around?”
Leon reached into his pocket and pulled out a photo of his wife and baby. It was an honest question, and one that both he and his lady had asked many a time. He wasn’t sure why, maybe it was loyalty, greed, or plain stupidity but Cayden had been there for him through his rough upbringing, he’d been there on the nights his old man had beaten him so hard he couldn’t walk. No matter how he looked at it, they were in this for life or at least until he could talk Cayden into walking away from it.
There was a thump at the door, four times and all three of them jumped up and pulled their handguns. Leon put his hand out to tell the others not to move as he made his way over and peered through the peephole. He smiled and unlocked the door, then pulled it open.
“Cayden.”
Cayden smiled. “Hello boys.”
He entered with six more men, Vic, Hank, Ty, Raymond, Chris and Jerome. It was rare they all showed up unless something serious was about to happen. Leon closed the door behind them and Cayden walked into the center of the room and looked down at the roll of carpet. He cast a glance at Leon.
“It was necessary,” Leon said.
He smiled. “I didn’t say it wasn’t. Now, you going to pour me a drink? As it was a hell of a ride getting here.”
Pat hurried over to the kitchen and returned with bottles of beer, and bourbon and passed them around. Cayden was wearing a long black leather trench coat and a black beanie hat that was covered in snow. He shook it off but didn’t take a seat which made it clear that he wasn’t there to waste time.
“So which room was Greg in?”
“1002,” Leon replied.
“And you tore the place apart?”
“Pretty much,” Jimmy replied.
Leon knew Cayden didn’t like Jimmy. They’d already been in talks about whether they thought he should be knocked off but Pat had gone to bat for him and promised to keep him in line. It wasn’t that he wasn’t good at his job, he just wasn’t the kind of yes-man that Cayden like to have around him. He questioned too much, and Cayden didn’t like having to explain or justify his actions. Cayden scowled at Jimmy.
Pat cleared his throat. “Yeah, we did. Tore up the furniture, anywhere it could have been stored we opened, looked under, above. You name it, we’ve done it, boss.”
Cayden sucked air between his teeth and looked around like he was disgusted. “And yet I still have no drugs before me, so here’s what we’re going to do. There is a room on the fifteenth floor just down the corridor.”
“The homeowners lounge, yeah, we saw it.”
“Right, well, we are going to get everyone in it.”
“Boss?” Pat asked.
“You heard me. I want you to start down on the ground floor, going door to door, force them, drag them out, hell, shoot them if they won’t go but I want everyone in that room. I think it shouldn’t take too long to figure out where those drugs are stored. I know they’re here because our guy who brought them confirmed it, as did Greg and that pig before his untimely demise. Your job is to find them.”
“And what are you going to do?” Jimmy asked.
Pat piped up. “Shut up, Jimmy.”
“No. No. He wants to know,” Cayden said walking over to him. “I’m going to be keeping a close eye on the group and dealing with the cops. Any other questions?”
He shook his head and Cayden continued, “Greg was a fucking idiot. I think we can all agree on that. The only reason I kept him around was because he hadn’t screwed up. I knew eventually he would, I just didn’t anticipate it being on the largest haul we’ve had since we got this operation up and running. But, what can you do? Now having been the one to collect in those early days, I know he kept the drugs in his apartment. He didn’t leave them outside because of the temperatures and he sure as hell didn’t ask someone else to l
ook after the drugs. However, that’s not to say that he didn’t change things up. Danny, the pig, told us that he stored them in a safe place in this building. So either the drugs are with the police or they’re in this building somewhere.”
“But, boss, this is a big place,” Pat said.
“And that was a big fucking shipment. I want it found. It will be found if I have to kill every fucking person in this shit hole to find it.” He breathed in deeply and looked at Leon. “And that includes the police,” he said before taking another swig of bourbon and walking over to the window to look out.
Leon knew he wasn’t joking. He’d seen that look in his eyes many times over the past two years. He was back to using, probably coked up. He’d told him to get clean because it only screwed with his mind but trying to talk sense into him was pointless. The last time he’d tried to have the conversation he’d blown his top and threatened Leon. The fact was Cayden had changed, the power had gone to his head, the drugs only made it worse and the friend he once knew was hidden below layers of hate, greed and narcissism. That’s why he’d wanted to get away with his lady — to think over his involvement, and to seriously consider walking away from it all. Now he wished he had.
“About the cops,” Leon said. “I’m with you on this but if we open fire, start dragging people out, we are going to bring SWAT down on us faster than a New York minute.” It was his last attempt at trying to get him to think of the consequences. Without turning, Cayden lifted his cell phone.
“No one’s coming. There is no signal, and the tunnel is closed.”
“Closed?”
“Yeah, we were lucky to get in. Soon as we were on the other side they brought it down. Something to do with the weather, a cop said. Oh, and about those cops. There are only three of them on duty. No SWAT are showing up here and we’ll be long gone by the time they do.”
Awkward silence fell over them for a few seconds before Cayden yelled, “Well what are you waiting for? Get on with it!”
Vic dumped a bag on the ground, unzipped it and starting handing out M4 carbines.