Nowhere To Run (To Protect And Serve)

by Mary Eason

  Dark caramel eyes surveyed Jordan from her dark blue hospital scrubs to her blonde hair.

  “Well now. Bless you child, what on earth are you doing here at this time of the night? Are you lost?”

  Jordan squared her shoulders. “No. I’m sorry to bother you so late. I’m not lost.” For the first time, Jordan considered what to tell the woman. Her appearance -- no matter who sent her -- would have to come across as suspicious to just about anyone. “Polk sent me. I need someplace to stay for the night. He said you could help me.” She held her breath and wondered how she could ever convince the woman to let a perfect stranger inside her home. Especially one who arrived at her door in the middle of the night.

  ***

  Riley waited at the hospital until he couldn’t sit still any longer. He’d wanted to believe she just needed time alone to walk off her temper. But he was wrong. She wasn’t coming back. She meant exactly what she’d said. If he didn’t find her soon Santiago would.

  He went back to the villa and forced the door open. Upon first glance, the place looked almost the same. Nothing appeared to be disturbed. He opened the bedroom closet. Most of her clothes were missing.

  Panic hit hard. He tried to think coherently, but his thoughts were all over the board.

  “Dammit.” Her first move would no doubt be to find a way off the island without calling attention to herself. He was willing to bet she’d steer as far away as possible from the abandoned piers where he’d told her they were to meet Frank’s contact. Which left the piers north of town.

  He grabbed his map of the surrounding islands and a flashlight and headed out.

  Nothing stirred on the waters north of the city. There counted some dozen or more boats docked along the pier. All the slips were full with the exception of one.

  He had no idea where she’d gone. But he was banking on it being one of the islands close by. Riley found a quiet secluded spot and searched the map. The grid lines swam before his tired eyes. Shit. She could have chosen any of them.

  From a distance, the steadying humming of a diesel engine drew his attention away from the map. He flipped off the light and listened. It was coming from the ocean.

  It took another fifteen minutes before the dilapidated boat appeared on the horizon. It looked as if any strong wind would send it to Davy Jones’ locker.

  Riley waited until the boat had docked before approaching its owner.

  He could tell his sudden appearance in the middle of the light had startled the man. Riley flashed his badge hoping the old guy wouldn’t look too close.

  “What do you want?” The man tossed the line for Riley to secure.

  “You took a woman out tonight.” He posed it in the form of a statement. The man turned away and began stowing his gear. A sure sign he knew something.

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about, sonny. Took the boat out to test some engine repairs.”

  “Cut the crap, buddy. I need to know where you took her.”

  “Like I said, you got the wrong skipper.”

  Riley blew out a frustrated sigh. “Look she’s in danger. I’m a homicide detective from New York. I’m investigating her brother’s death.” Silence met this admission where normally people showed some form of emotion. Shock. Repulsion. Curiosity. Something. “I need to know where she’s at. Her life’s in danger.”

  “And I need a new line of work. I guess we both got things we need.” The old guy didn’t bother looking at Riley.

  Riley didn’t wait for an invitation to board. He heaved his six-foot frame over the bow much to the man’s surprise. “The same person who killed her brother is going to do the same to her if you don’t tell me where you took her right now.” The skipper seemed unmoved by his confession. He continued stowing gear.

  Riley was probably on a short list of people Jordan wanted to see right now, but still he knew if he didn’t find her soon, Santiago and his goons would.

  “I know she told you not to tell anyone, but do you really want to be responsible for her life? Or death?” That at least elicited a quick hiccup in the old guy’s steady motion of stowing gear.

  “Look, time is running out. They’ll be here while you’re thinking about doing the right thing. Just tell me.”

  The grizzled captain pinned him with a piercing glower. For a long time Riley doubted he’d changed his mind. “Alright. But you’d better be one of the good guys.”

  Riley nodded with a quick smile. “I am. Trust me. I’m as good as it gets in this case.”

  “Then you won’t mind handing over that gun.” The old man didn’t blink an eye.

  Riley’d tucked the weapon in the waist of his jeans beneath his shirt. He thought the lightweight jacket he’d tossed over it as an afterthought would conceal it from anyone’s view. He’d been wrong. “I can’t do that.”

  “You can if you want to know where she’s at.” When Riley didn’t make a move to obey, the old guy added, “You may be one of the good guys, but as far as I know, you’re just some stranger with a gun up to no good. And I don’t trust you.”

  Slowly, Riley removed the weapon and ejected the cartridge. Going against everything he’d learned in his years on the force, he handed the man his weapon. “Alright. You can have the gun, but I’m keeping the clip.” He dared the old guy to challenge.

  The man tucked the weapon inside his own jacket pocket, wiped his hands on grimy pants and extended one to Riley. “Name’s Polk.”

  “Riley Donovan.” He clasped the old guy’s hand. When he tried to pull free, Polk held onto it a bit longer, his eyes boring into Riley’s. After another moment, Polk released his hand.

  It felt as if he’d passed a test of some sort.

  Polk pulled the gun from his pocket. “Here. You probably need to hold onto this. If someone’s gonna have to use that thing, I’d rather it be a man who knows how to shoot it properly.”

  “Appreciate it.” Riley replaced the clip then shoved the weapon back into the waist of his jeans. He stood back and watched in amazement as Polk maneuvered the vessel seamlessly from its slip.

  “Ever kill anyone?” Polk surprised him by asking once they were in open water.

  “Once.” Riley admitted after a moment. This wasn’t something he chose to talk about – taking a life no matter how evil, weighed heavy on his conscience most of the time but he felt as if he owed the old man something. And if Polk had taken Jordan to one of the neighboring islands, it would be at least a couple of hours before they arrived. More than enough time to share his story.

  “What’d he do?”

  “Killed his wife.”

  “Why’d he do that?”

  “Caught her with his best friend.” Riley spotted Polk’s surprised glance out of the corner of his eye. “Killed his friend as well.”

  “Man. That’s a tough one. Can’t say as I blame him.”

  He nodded. It happened a short time after he left the Bureau. “It was my first big case. I’d been with homicide less than a month. My partner and I got an anonymous tip that the man was hold up in an abandoned building. We called for backup. I took the back entrance. Frank the front.” Riley remembered every detail of that night as if it were yesterday. He’d changed after that shooting. Become harder. Pessimistic.

  “Before backup arrived, the man decided to run. I remember he came charging out the door. We faced each other in the alley. He was only a few feet from me. My weapon was drawn. So was his. Like some old western. I ordered him to drop the gun. He didn’t. Instead, he cocked the trigger and would have blown my head off. I got off a lucky shot. Right between the eyes.

  Polk, mesmerized by the story let out a long whistle then shook his head. “Uh. Uh. Uh.”

  “He was dead before he hit the ground.” Riley finished, aware of the catch in his voice that was always there whenever he told that story.

  “Sounds like he wanted to die. You didn’t have much of a choice if you ask me.” Polk’s gaze fixed on Riley’s expression. Even today -- after
all these years, the reality of taking another life still got to him. He thought about it every single day of his life.

  “Yeah.” Polk was right. Daniel Houseman didn’t have a problem killing his wife and best friend. He couldn’t kill himself. He had Riley do that for him. He’d taken the easy way out. Suicide by cop is what they called it. A living hell was what it had proven to be for Riley.

  “Where’d you take her?”

  Polk shot him another look. “Devils Key. No one will find her there. No one goes there.”

  Riley shook his head. He couldn’t tell the man that would be the first place Santiago would likely look.

  “She tell you what was going on?”

  “No sir. Not a thing. Offered me money to forget I’d ever met her though.”

  Riley could only imagine Jordan’s fear. She thought she was doing what was best for him. Maybe she still believed he’d betrayed her. Either way, the battle that lay ahead for him in convincing her to trust him again would be difficult. But he had to try. Lives were at stake. Hers. His.

  He’d made a promise to her that he intended to keep whether she wanted him involved or not. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her even if it meant risking his life. Because for the first time in longer than he cared to remember, something more than just the job mattered.

  Jordan meant something to him. And it wasn’t just because they’d made love, or shared danger. It went far deeper than sex.

  If he were being honest, he’d known she was different from the beginning. With Jordan, he could see something he’d never imagined possible with another woman before.

  A little white picket fence. Kids. And something beyond his life as a cop that was rapidly losing its appeal.

  He saw a future.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jordan waited until she was certain Simone had gone to bed before dragging the room’s one heavy chair across to secure the door.

  Her body ached from exhaustion. The bed looked more than inviting but she didn’t dare fall asleep.

  Instead, she dumped the contents of her bag on the bed. Clothes, toiletries and her cell phone. She’d promised herself she’d only use it when she had no other choice. This situation certainly fit the bill.

  She tried every single number she had for Mariah as well as her ex without any answer. Riley had indicated Mariah hadn’t been heard from since arriving in Moscow.

  Dear God – please let her be okay.

  There was only one person she trusted enough to ask for help. Elliott Colton.

  The minute she heard the sleep in Elliot’s voice she realized the time. Not that it mattered. It couldn’t be helped.

  “Elliot, its Jordan. I need your help.” The silence greeting those words sent her imagination into overdrive.

  “Jordan…gees.” Elliot breathed into the receiver.

  “I’m sorry. I know it’s late.”

  “To hell with the time. You have any idea how many people are looking for you? Caesar’s freaking out. And then there’s the ‘FBI’,” he whispered. “Where are you--” Elliot’s next words were muffled as if he’d placed a hand over the receiver. Jordan remembered Elliot’s wife Marie.

  “Elliot, I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you. Apologize to Marie for me. I didn’t know who else to call.”

  Elliot released a frustrated sigh. “Of course, I’ll help you. Tell me what you want me to do.”

  “Find a way to get in touch with David Enfield. He’s the U.S. Attorney in New York. I need you to have him call me. But Elliot, you can’t give this number to anyone but David Enfield, okay.” She gave Elliot the cell number. “He’ll know what to do. Call him right now. I don’t have much time.”

  “I’ll do it now as soon as we hang up. Jordan, are you okay?”

  “Yes. For now. Just hurry Elliot. I can’t explain. It’s best that you don’t know.”

  She kept the call short in case Caesar was monitoring her phone. She paced the room feeling as if she were quickly running out of options.

  Jordan looked over the contents of her bag. There was nothing amongst her belonging, which might suffice as a weapon. She dumped the items back into the bag and zipped it.

  The room itself held very little in the way of possessions beyond a few mismatched pieces of furniture. A quick search of the dresser produced a pair of scissors, a nail file and a heavy glass paperweight. Not much comfort really, but it was all that was standing between herself and Caesar.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “This is it.” Polk interrupted the troubled thoughts going round in Riley’s head. Would he find Jordan still there? Would he be too late?

  He waited until Polk brought the boat a safe distance from the dock before jumping off. With the vessel secured, Riley anticipated the man’s next move. “I need you to wait here, Polk. I don’t know what I’ll run into once I get there. I may need you to be ready to leave very quickly.”

  “Like hell! I’m going with you. I might not be a cop, but Simone is my friend and I’m not going to let anything happen to her.”

  “Dammit, Polk.” He eyed the man with frustration before shaking his head. “Alright, but stay close. And if anything happens I want you to run. Don’t try to be a hero, go back to the boat and call for help.”

  Once they’d reached the beach Riley took a moment to survey the area. “Is there any other way onto the island?”

  Polk thought about it for a moment. “There’s the old airport south of the city. I guess someone could fly a plane into it still.”

  “Which way to Simone’s, Polk? We need to hurry.”

  “It’s just a few blocks off the main street. I’ll show you...” Polk started up the rocky beach but Riley stopped him.

  “No way, Polk. I’m the one with the gun remember. You stay behind me at all times.” Riley took the lead, picking his way across the beach and through the small spattering of weathered businesses until they reached the residential part of the village. He deliberately took his time, stopping every so often to get his bearing and make sure they weren’t being tracked.

  After another half hour of painstakingly maneuvering through the narrow, dirt street, they reached Simone’s neighborhood.

  Everything appeared dark and silent on the street where Simone lived.

  “That’s odd,” Polk whispered close to Riley’s ear.

  “What is?”

  “Well, Simone’s got one of those gas lights in front of her house. Out near the gate. Always burning. No matter what.”

  Riley remembered Jeremy Scott’s murder scene. Someone had broken out all of the streetlights near the crime area. “Wait here.” He could just make out Polk’s mutinous expression in the dark. “Just do it.”

  After a quick sweep of the outside parameter, nothing appeared out of place. No sign of broken bushes near the house. No footprints even though there were obvious signs that it had rained here recently. With the exception of the malfunctioning light, at first blush everything appeared normal.

  And then Riley spotted it. He’d almost missed the small window standing slightly ajar at the back of the house.

  Riley made his way slowly back to where Polk stood. “Is there any law enforcement on Devils Key?” He whispered while trying to keep the urgency out of his tone.

  “No sir. There ain’t a dozen or so families living on the island. Folks here police themselves for the most part.”

  “Polk, go back to the boat. I need you to radio for help. Call the constable’s office on Longboat. Tell them I’m detective Riley Donovan and I’m here with a federal witness against the Santiago Cartel. Our lives are in danger. If he needs to verify this, tell him to contact David Enfield at the U.S. District Attorney’s Office. But tell him to send help as quickly as he can. Make him realize this is urgent. Make him see that.”

  “Oh lord have mercy.” Polk crossed himself.

  “Go now. Hurry. They may have already taken Jordan and Simone.”

  Riley didn’t wait to ensure the old man did as he as
ked. He slipped around the back of the house to the open window. He peered through the curtains, but couldn’t make out a single thing inside. Riley worked the window all the way open then slowly leveraged his weight through the small opening.

  After a few moments, his eyes began to adjust to the darkness. He’d landed inside a small kitchen area. He drew his weapon and slowly made his way to the entrance of the room. Directly in front of him, a set of stairs framed a small hallway. He crept down the corridor to a living room. The downstairs appeared clear. Riley cocked his head and listened for sounds upstairs. Silence. The broken light was too big of a coincidence. Someone had taken it out deliberately.

  He was midway up the stairs when he heard footsteps coming from outside. More than one set. It could be Polk, but somehow Riley doubted it.

  He raced up the remaining steps and tried the first door he’d come to. It was locked. He prayed he’d still find Jordan inside.

  “Jordan, its Riley. Are you in there?” He thought he could hear the smallest of movements coming from within.

  “How did you find me,” she whispered in surprise. “What are you doing here? I thought I told you—“

  “Dammit Jordan, we don’t have time for this. He’s here. Santiago’s here. Stay where you are. Don’t open the door for anyone but me. We don’t have much time. Where’s Simone?”

  “She’s in the room next to mine,” he heard her say. He could hear the fear in her voice.

  Riley moved quickly to the next door and pushed it open. A woman sat up in bed startled awake by his appearance. “Who’s there?”

  Riley rushed to the bed. “Simone, you’re gonna have to trust me. I’m a friend of Polk’s. If you want to live, you need to come with me right now.”

  She didn’t hesitate. Simone threw back the covers and got out of bed. “What’s happening? Who are you? Where’s Polk.”