The Janes

by Louisa Luna

  “Where’s Alice Vega?” the white one said as they approached.

  Cap looked over both shoulders.

  “Don’t see her,” he said.

  The white cop pulled a phone from his belt, and the black cop took his cuffs off his and walked quickly to Cap, who kept his hands on his head to wait for the order. Best to do what the guys with the guns say when they say it.

  But before the black cop unlocked the strands on the cuffs, a blue midsize car bounded down the ramp, screeched, and halted in front of them. The cops whirled around, and Cap’s anxiety spiked with the thought, What we don’t need now are any more surprises. But when Cap saw the driver, he had to bite his tongue to keep from smiling.

  * * *

  —

  Vega heard tires screech and peered around the corner of the van. There was the blue Camry. She was relieved but not entirely. They weren’t out yet.

  But she couldn’t help feeling better when she actually watched McTiernan get out of the car and stride up to the cops. She also heard sirens in the distance. Police, not ambulance.

  “Officers,” McTiernan said, sounding authoritative. “Young and Kernan, right?”

  He flipped his wallet, which was already in hand, and flashed his badge.

  “Detective McTiernan,” he said. “Thanks for your help here. I have orders from Commander Roland Otero to bring this suspect in for questioning.”

  Vega kept her face pressed to the van as she watched Young and Kernan stare at McTiernan.

  “We have pretty specific instructions as well from our commanding officer,” said the white cop, his chest still heaving from sprinting in full uniform. “And we haven’t had any order for a change.”

  “Understood,” said McTiernan, not backing down. “But unless you’ve received your orders from the Deputy Chief or Chief of Police of San Diego County, my order outranks yours, and even so…” McTiernan paused, allowing it all to burrow into the cops’ psyches. “I outrank you. So for this minute right here, that’s as specific as you need.”

  McTiernan pulled a nylon cuff strip from his pocket and walked to Cap, who obediently brought his hands behind his back.

  “You’d best get in touch with your commanding officer,” said McTiernan. “Your orders may have changed.”

  The sirens from the street grew louder. The cops stood there, still, as McTiernan fastened the cuff onto Cap’s wrists, cinching the strap through the bridge to tighten it.

  “Let’s go, gentlemen!” McTiernan said, raising his voice. “Don’t wait for a goddamn letter in the mail.”

  The cops said, “Yes, sir,” and left. As they jogged back up the ramp, McTiernan pulled Cap by the arm to his car. When the sound of their footsteps dissipated completely, Vega crept out from the behind the van and ran to them.

  “I got your message,” McTiernan said to her, his eyes lighting up with recognition. “We have to go right now. You should see the shit they’re spinning about you two.”

  “Vega needs a medic,” said Cap, offering his wrists to McTiernan, who snapped them apart with a pocketknife.

  McTiernan looked her over, saw the blood on Vega’s side and dripping down her leg, her face washed clean of color.

  “Okay, first we need to get out of the five-block radius,” he said, and then, aiming his thumb behind him, “You two got to get in the trunk.”

  Vega nodded and couldn’t control the weak smile that sprang to her face when she realized she’d be able to lie down.

  McTiernan popped the trunk, and Cap got in first, bending his body into a spoon. McTiernan held his arm out to Vega to steady herself, and she climbed in, turning her cut side up in an effort to ease the blood flow.

  “We’re not going far. I’ll drive quick as I can,” said McTiernan, looking down at them.

  “Thanks,” said Cap, extending his hand.

  McTiernan shook it.

  “Don’t thank me yet.”

  He slammed the trunk shut, and it was all black in front of Vega’s eyes except for the thin line of light along the edge of the lid. She could feel Cap breathing, his chest pressed against her back, his arm draped across her upper abdomen away from the cut. She tried to keep her eyes open but couldn’t fight anymore; they came down heavy, old movie theater curtains hitting a dusty stage.

  * * *

  —

  Cap didn’t think Vega should sleep. He felt her body go limp in front of him, her head dropping away from right under his neck, lolling forward.

  “Vega,” he said, tensing the arm that he had wrapped around her slightly. “Try to stay awake.”

  “I can’t,” she said dreamily, into the dark, hot air of the trunk.

  The car lurched uphill, onto the ramp and out of the garage, Cap figured. Vega rolled against him with gravity, and he tightened his grip on her body so she wouldn’t flop around when the car got level again. She stirred a little at the pressure but seemed to remain in her dozing state.

  Shit, thought Cap, I have to let her sleep. He angled his face toward her so his nose was in her hair and he smelled it, thought this would be a different sort of experience if she didn’t have a severe body wound. It was in a movie, wasn’t it, he thought. Wasn’t it the same one he’d thought of recently where George Clooney or Brad Pitt threw the tie down? He, the male lead, is in a trunk with the curvy female lead, Cap remembered, but as usual, he recalled no details. Nell would have made fun of him if she could hear him talk it out. Probably Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert, Dad.

  The car was moving at a steady speed now, and Cap tried to take short breaths in an attempt to leave as much oxygen for Vega as possible. He heard sirens grow loud and then shrink into silence.

  He loosened his arm around her, didn’t pull it back in case there were sudden stops, but wanted to take any force out of it so as not to agitate her injury. She wasn’t snoring but breathing loudly through her nose, slowly and evenly. He kissed the top of her head lightly—he didn’t even really think about doing it, about whether she was half-asleep or what, pros and cons and whether it was a smart move. Everything seemed to be speeding up just then, the whole damn world a blur, Cap sensing a sickness in his throat, the unnerving, unreal feeling of things quickly spinning out of control.

  14

  vega opened her eyes to a bright room, and mCtiernan and Cap standing over her, Cap still in the hospital gown.

  “You think you can walk?” said Cap.

  Vega nodded, realized she was still in the trunk of McTiernan’s car. She sat up, wincing at the pain in her side, her head buzzing.

  “Watch it now,” said McTiernan, holding both his arms out so she could take them.

  “You should get on your knees first,” said Cap, placing his hand on her back.

  Vega kneeled, hunching over so she wouldn’t hit her head on the lid. She glanced around and saw they were in a garage, plastic storage containers on pegboard shelves, twin bare lightbulbs on the ceiling.

  They helped her step out of the trunk, and she stood on wobbly legs, one hand in Cap’s, the other on McTiernan’s forearm.

  “This your place?” she asked.

  “My girlfriend’s. She’s out of town for work. Flight attendant,” said McTiernan. “Come on in this way.”

  He led them to a door in the corner of the garage and went inside. Cap followed first, then held the door open for Vega, and she walked under his arm into a kitchen with a brown tile floor, wooden cabinets with brass-plated handles. There were three brown leather stools next to a counter, and McTiernan waved toward them.

  “Have a seat up there. I’m going to see what supplies we have in the bathroom.”

  McTiernan hurried out of the room, and Cap offered his arm for Vega to hold. She shook her head and hiked herself up on the stool. Cap opened and closed cabinets and found a glass, filled it with water from the sink, and brought
it back to Vega. Vega drank it but found she couldn’t take big gulps; if she sipped too much her throat seemed to push the liquid back up.

  “Easy,” said Cap as he filled another glass for himself.

  He drank it down quickly, streams spilling on either side of his mouth. Then another.

  McTiernan rushed back in, carrying a red and blue beach towel and a smaller washcloth.

  “Here, do you want to…” he said, handing Vega the washcloth.

  McTiernan averted his eyes while Vega lifted the gown and wiped off the excess blood from her side. His shyness only highlighted Cap’s lack of it, both in the bathroom at the hospital and now, as Cap watched Vega clean herself, his brow deeply creased with concern. While Vega cleaned up, McTiernan talked.

  “I have someone who can come over and sew you up,” he said.

  “Is it soon?” said Cap. “The blood’s not stopping.”

  “I’m fine,” said Vega, placing the washcloth on the counter.

  She held her hand out for the towel, and McTiernan passed it to her.

  “Soon,” said McTiernan.

  He and Cap watched as Vega pressed the towel over the bandage and held it tightly there with her elbow. McTiernan ran his hands over his head and sighed.

  “There’s some shit going on, you guys,” he said, taking his phone from his pocket and tapping it repeatedly with his index finger. “Listen to this.”

  He held his phone in front of Vega, and Cap crossed the kitchen to look over her shoulder.

  “A few hours ago I get this from Otero,” McTiernan said, retrieving a voice mail. He held the phone out and clicked up the volume: “Detective, this is Commander Otero—should you hear from Alice Vega or Max Caplan, please do not respond to them and please notify me immediately by phone. Thanks very much.”

  “All caps on the ‘not,’ ” said Cap.

  “Then two hours ago I get this,” McTiernan said, scrolling again. “We get email blasts grouped by rank when there are bulletins of prioritized, urgent assignments, orders. This was department-wide, as in whole of San Diego department from Otero to everyone, detective and above.”

  McTiernan tapped on a message and read aloud: “ ‘Two suspects wanted for questioning w/r to homicides of two Jane Does. Suspects’ names are Alice Vega, Maxwell Caplan.’ ”

  “You are fucking kidding me,” said Cap in disbelief. “Those girls died before I booked my plane ticket out here.”

  “That is what I would categorize as information we know,” said McTiernan, spinning his finger around in a circle to indicate the three of them. “That is not what anyone else knows.”

  “Except Otero and Boyce and Mackey,” said Vega.

  “No way,” said Cap, correcting her. He counted on his fingers, “McT, the nice people at the hotel, the rental car lady. We have over a dozen witnesses who know we just got here, not to mention a hundred back in our respective hometowns to vouch for us before this week.”

  “It would take a while for all that to come to light,” said Vega calmly. “And they’d find a way to keep you quiet,” she said to McTiernan. “They’re planning to move quickly enough to bypass the details. They just want us contained.”

  “You were hired to find the rest of the Janes. That is what Otero told me to my face,” said McTiernan.

  “We did find them,” said Vega wearily.

  “What?” McTiernan said, genuinely shocked.

  “That’s how we ended up like this,” said Cap, presenting himself. “We found them at a house in Salton. Ben Davis sliced up Vega, and some Frankenstein motherfucker electrocuted me,” he said, tapping his temple, still sore.

  “Where are they, though—the girls?” said McTiernan.

  Vega clenched the beach towel to her side while her mind raced.

  “So no one knows we found them?” she said.

  “Somebody knows,” said Cap, ranting. “Otero was there, in Salton. I remember his goddamn face.”

  “I do, too,” said Vega thoughtfully.

  “Who else?” said McTiernan, eager now to fill in the rest of the story. “Were Boyce and Mackey there? Any other cops?”

  Vega shook her head.

  “We weren’t in the best condition,” she said. “But all I remember is Otero, and paramedics. And they…” She paused, trying to bring back the picture of the last time she saw the girls. “They put the girls in a bus, like an inmate-transport bus.”

  “Wait,” said McTiernan, confused. “The paramedics did?”

  “I don’t know,” Vega said. “I can’t remember.”

  “Then what?”

  Cap hit his forehead lightly with the palm of his hand.

  “Then I was out for a while,” he said.

  Vega picked it up: “They brought us to the ER and split us up.”

  “Then we ended up in separate rooms on an abandoned floor in that hospital,” said Cap, rubbing his face. “And your deputy chief came to have a chat.”

  Vega and McTiernan both looked at Cap with interest.

  “Posada?” said McTiernan.

  “Yeah,” said Cap. “I thought it was a strange conversation at the time, but now…” He paused. “Now it seems like he was just there to threaten me.”

  “Armando Posada?” said McTiernan, clarifying. “He threatened you?”

  “Sure felt like it,” said Cap. “I mean, he did it nicely, but I think he was telling me to get out of town.”

  This appeared to shake McTiernan up. He leaned against the counter, deep in thought.

  “I take it this was out of character for him,” said Cap.

  “Yeah, you could say that. The guy’s by the book,” said McTiernan. “All the books.”

  Cap thought of his former boss, Chief Traynor, how his near-obsessive attention to detail was what subjected him to endless ribbing but was also the thing that made him good at what he did. Cap never balked at Traynor’s spotless office or exhaustive list making; he thought that’s what you want in police brass, for them to remember every line of law, everything airtight.

  Cap scratched the back of his head.

  “He kind of had a change of heart,” he said, matter-of-fact.

  “So how far up does this go?” McTiernan asked the room plaintively.

  Vega recognized the emotion in his eyes. She’d actually seen it a lot, usually in parents of missing children. It was despair: sadness and worry with the water rising steadily. She imagined McTiernan had just felt a sizable surge in the sea level.

  “Wrong question,” said Vega, channeling Perry, although he would have added a game show buzzer Enh!

  Her arm began to ache from pressing the beach towel against her side, so she lifted it and leaned hard on the counter to keep up the pressure. Cap and McTiernan looked at her expectantly.

  “It’s why,” she said. “We know why, we just plug in the names like a…” she said, hesitating, trying to recall the name of the word game from childhood. Finally she remembered: “Mad Libs.”

  “Well, sure,” said Cap. “Why bring you in just to pin you down later for the crime?” he said to her.

  The doorbell rang; McTiernan and Cap jumped a bit.

  “That’ll be the medic,” McTiernan said. Then to Cap, “Go down the hall to your right. Trina’s got some of my clothes in the dresser, bottom drawer. They should fit you okay.”

  Cap nodded and hurried out of the room.

  “You sure he’s safe?” said Vega.

  McTiernan nodded and went to the front door, opened it and let the medic in.

  Vega managed a tired wave when she saw who it was.

  * * *

  —

  Cap found McTiernan’s clothes and put them on: a short-sleeved plaid button-down, khaki pants, socks. The shoes might be tougher. He examined himself in the mirror on the door. McTiern
an was a little taller than Cap and also a little heavier around the waist, but the pants were not too loose and only a little baggier at the bottom.

  He nodded at his reflection, went back out, down the hall, where he saw Vega walking slowly, flanked by McTiernan and Mia the pathologist, holding a slim black zippered case under her arm.

  “Hey,” Mia said to Cap, grinning.

  “Hi,” said Cap. “Where are we going?”

  “Bathroom,” said McTiernan.

  “Might be some blood,” said Mia.

  Cap waited in the doorway of the bathroom while the other three went in. Mia stood by the tub while McTiernan unfolded a white towel onto the floor.

  “Is this going to be enough room?” he asked Mia.

  “Should be,” she said, washing her hands in the sink. “I can’t get to her in the bathtub.”

  Cap watched Vega, who stood against the wall, holding on to a towel rack.

  “You need help getting down?” he said to her.

  She nodded, her breath choppy.

  McTiernan quickly left the bathroom to make room for Cap. Vega came off the wall, and Cap gripped her hand and held her arm steady as she kneeled and then lay down on the towel. Then Cap went back to the doorway to watch. He stuck his hands in his pockets to keep from touching his face and realized he was nervous.

  “You got a couple washcloths with a little antibacterial soap for me?” said Mia to McTiernan, who nodded and ran back to the kitchen.

  Mia removed her jacket, a key-lime-pie-colored windbreaker, and draped it over the bathtub. She kneeled with some effort because of her girth, but appeared completely comfortable with the conditions. McTiernan returned and handed her the washcloths, and she lifted Vega’s gown and gently pulled off the bandage and all the tape Cap had applied. She dabbed the area directly surrounding the cut.

  Vega inhaled sharply with the pain.

  “Hang in there,” said Mia. “Lucky for you I got some lidocaine.”