Eyes of the Dead: A Crime and Suspense Thriller (The Gardens Book 1)

by Adam Netherlund

  “I guess.”

  They sat in a tiny plain-white room. It was cold and sterile. Lifeless. Berlin envisioned the inmate’s loved ones, visiting them at the center. He wondered if, subconsciously, their emotions would match the feel of the room. Uninspired and futile.

  The door buzzed, the screeching sound piercing their ears. The inmate walked into the room and a guard trailed him. The inmate’s eyes opened wide once he saw Berlin. The guard removed the handcuffs, closed the door, and left the three men in the small room.

  “Long time, Leonard,” Berlin said.

  Leonard sat down on the empty chair in front of him. He was dressed in an orange jumpsuit, which matched his fiery red hair that was pulled back into a ponytail. He wore no undershirt, which allowed his tattoos to creep up to his neck. Berlin couldn’t entirely make it out, but it appeared to be some sort of snake.

  “Man, what the hell you want?” Leonard asked. He didn’t even look at Mitchell. All his attention and anger was directed at Berlin.

  Berlin studied him. His eyes were deep set and angled in like they were reaching for the center of his face. Purple-pink bags formed under his eyes and Berlin noticed that he looked quite a bit older than when they had last met.

  “You look terrible, Leonard. Things that bad on the street nowadays or is the inside getting to ya?”

  Leonard smiled. “Man, it’s crazy here. Never thought I’d say it, but the faster I can get sentenced and outta here, the better. Screw this. I hate being all cooped up in here.”

  Berlin nodded.

  Leonard wasted no time and said, “Berlin, you’re one of the last guys I ever expected to see again. Especially up in here.” He leaned on the table and interlaced his fingers. A small tiger was visible on his left hand. “So, get on with it. What do you want?”

  “We’re working a case and we need your help.”

  Leonard laughed. “Ain’t that somethin’. You needin’ my help. Why would I help you?” He sat back, confident and sure of himself. He put his arms up behind his head and leaned back on the legs of the chair, wobbling ever so slightly.

  “I saw that you got picked up for possession with intent to distribute,” Berlin said. “What do you say if we help you out with a plea deal?”

  Berlin felt Mitchell’s eyes swivel in his direction. He had obviously not shared any of his intentions with his partner outside. He knew to expect some kickback later, once they were done here, but that was the least of his worries right now. Right now, he needed Leonard to play some ball.

  Leonard pushed the chair back down and pointed a finger at Berlin. “I ain’t no snitch. I ain’t givin’ you shit.”

  Berlin knew that Leonard would take this route. Luckily, he had come prepared. He opened the manila folder that sat on the table and sorted through the papers.

  “I see some congratulations are in order, Leonard.”

  Leonard’s eyes narrowed.

  “For what?” he said, his voice going up an octave.

  “Your daughter. She had a baby recently. That makes you a granddad.”

  Leonard pursed his lips tight. “Yeah, what of it?”

  Berlin scanned the documents in the folder with a finger. “I see that there were some complications with the delivery, though. Little Ruby was born with spina bifida.”

  Leonard stared at Berlin then, finally, his eyes moved up to Mitchell who stood off to the right. “That’s right.” He scratched his chin. “They say she got myeye—”

  “Myelomeningocele. It’s a hard one, I know. It’s severe, Leonard.” Berlin went back to the documents. “It occurs when the meninges, a fancy word for membranes, pushes through a hole in the back. The spinal cord pushes through, too.” Berlin watched him as the tough guy, Leonard, started to disappear and melt away in front of him. “Little Ruby’s got a complex life ahead of her. Mom included. We can help with that, though. Alleviate some of their concerns.”

  Leonard eyed the door. Berlin knew what he wanted. He wanted to escape. He wanted to go back to a place where, not thirty-seconds ago, he had just said that he couldn’t wait to leave.

  Berlin smiled. “Funny how that works, eh?”

  “Huh?”

  Berlin waved a hand. “Forget it. Leonard, come on, work with me here. Neurosurgeons, urologists, rehabilitation…that stuff is going to get expensive. Do you want your grandkid to be paralyzed?” Berlin knew that, by cutting to the chase and uttering the word, he’d get Leonard’s full attention again.

  “Hell, no,” Leonard said. He stared at the wall before he asked, “What do you want?”

  “Exodus Clay.”

  Leonard laughed so loudly, it got the attention of a guard that must have been standing outside their room. His face appeared in the small glass window in the door and then quickly disappeared again.

  “You’re crazy,” Leonard said. “Nuh-uh.”

  Berlin gritted his teeth. He was getting tired of playing games. Why did everyone always have to be so difficult?

  Mitchell seized the opportunity to finally join in on the conversation. “Fine. Forget Clay. What do you know about a dead cop?”

  “Dead cop? Oh, is that what this is about?” Leonard leaned back on the chair legs again and smiled. “If you’re lookin’ at X for that, you’re lookin’ in the wrong direction, guys.”

  “How’s that?” Mitchell asked.

  “X may be a lot of things, man, but he ain’t no cop killer. He’s got a family, just like you and me, and it’s a dark cruel world out there. He does what he has to to get by, don’t get me wrong, but that don’t include killin’ cops.”

  “Go on,” Berlin said, leaning close.

  Leonard creased a brow. “Go on what?”

  “Keep talking.”

  Leonard looked to Berlin, then to Mitchell. “You guys…I’m starting to get the impression that you guys don’t know anything. How’s that fer talkin’? Like, what, I’m just gonna give you everything on a silver platter, is that it?”

  Berlin smiled crookedly.

  Leonard put his hands on the table. “I ain’t sayin’ shit about X. No more. He’s good people. I may be just a nobody, but I’ve played this game long enough to know, you can’t bite the hand that feeds. Know what I’m sayin’? He ain’t small time like Marco or insane like them Cook Brothers. This guy…he’s the future, man. Forget The Falcon. X is the real deal.”

  Well, if there was anything to be said about The Falcon, he certainly was a celebrity around these parts. The nickname was attributed to Ivan Sokolov, a Russian mob boss. He had reigned over the Gardens for the better part of twenty years, with no signs of slowing down. He was untouchable. The modern age Al Capone. Rumor had it that he had his hand in everything and everyone. Officials, judges, politicians, even members of the police department. How else do you explain a guy like him, running around, making a mockery of the city? They bent to his will and probably loved him for it. It made Berlin sick. He’d like nothing more than to be alone in a room with Sokolov, just on principle alone.

  Berlin took out a pen from the inside of his pocket and pulled the papers closer to him. He wrote Ivan Sokolov on a blank page and circled it. He then wrote Exodus Clay to the right of it and circled his name as well. He was thinking that it was time to connect the dots. There had to be something that they were missing.

  Everyone was quiet while Berlin scribbled his drawings. Finally, Berlin sat up in his chair, asking, “How can a guy like Clay move up the ranks so fast, without us knowing about it? Where’d he come from?”

  “Ya got me, man,” Leonard said. “I’m not the detective here.”

  Berlin felt his face flush with color.

  Don’t lash out at him. Just, don’t. Keep your head on straight.

  “What can you tell me, Leonard? If you want some help with Ruby, then you’re going to have to stop messing around. No more games.”

  Leonard thought about it and adjusted in his chair. “Fine. No more games. You want my advice? Stop lookin’ at X. Just, back off.
You’re wrong ‘bout him.”

  “Getting impatient here, Leonard.”

  “I’m gettin’ to it, man. Calm your tits.”

  Berlin raised an eyebrow.

  “He’s tellin’ you to calm down,” Mitchell told Berlin.

  Berlin acknowledged Mitchell and went back to Leonard.

  Leonard was looking back at the door, maybe to see if the guard was standing nearby. “That’s right. Anyway, I heard some things about your dead cop before I got pinched.”

  “I’m listening,” Berlin said.

  “From what I heard, a cop killed your man.”

  CHAPTER 23

  “You think he’s tellin’ the truth?” Mitchell asked as they pulled back onto the highway and started to head back into the city.

  “About?”

  “You know. One of us doin’ Tim Scott.”

  Berlin didn’t know what to think. It was the first solid lead they had thanks to that reporter—what was his name? Now he felt like they were back at square one. No witnesses, no weapon, and a scene that was pretty clean. Maybe too clean. Like, someone knew what they were doing sorta clean. “Well, if the shoe fits.”

  “Jeez.”

  How long had that car been behind them?

  What was next? The files? Unless he reached out to talk to the reporter.

  God, what was his name?

  No, Ecker wouldn’t like that. Not one bit.

  ‘I have no problem sending you back to wherever the hell you came from.’ Those were Ecker’s words, and they rattled around in his head.

  Get a grip on yourself, he thought. Think about Lexi Scott. She needed closure, too.

  Lexi.

  Oh, I didn’t realize you two were that close? the voice inside his head ribbed him.

  Mrs. Scott.

  That’s what I thought.

  You’re gonna have to watch out for her, though. Especially now with that threatening poster.

  Yeah. Just keep piling it on. I don’t mind. Really. I already got a dead wife, a dead cop, and now some sickos are playing a mean trick on some poor widow. Sounds about right.

  Don’t forget the shrink, the voice reminded him.

  You’re bound to make someone real happy, bub.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Mitchell asked.

  “Sorry. Just thinkin’ about the case,” Berlin said. “Not a lot making sense right now. It’s starting to get to me.”

  “Well, don’t you be comin’ unhinged on me now, partner. You still gotta show me the ropes at some point. I need you.” Berlin kept quiet. In a way, he hoped that Mitch would as well. No such luck, though, as he continued, “What do you wanna do about this Clay character?”

  Berlin tightened his grip on the steering wheel, shaking his head. “Let’s forget about him for now.”

  “You really think that’s a good idea?”

  So much doubt with this guy. Why can’t he just trust him? “We’ll deal with him when the time comes, okay?” Berlin glanced at Mitchell in the passenger’s seat. “We don’t have a lot of options right now and the only way we’ll be able to find out more is through the Narcos. And look at how that turned out. No, we’ll find another way. Something tells me that we’re ‘bout due for a break.”

  Mitchell watched him. His eyes gave him away. Berlin only needed a second for it to register. That look that asked, can I trust you? I want to believe what you’re saying, but I’m still so unsure, sort of look.

  Berlin placed both hands on the wheel and flexed his forearms. “Scott. We focus on Tim Scott.”

  A moment later, Berlin pulled off the 406 without warning and navigated to the nearest exit. He squeezed the brake pedal, decelerating as he was coming up much too fast on the cars in front of him. Their taillights glowed a solid red, like demon’s eyes.

  “What you gettin’ off for?” Mitchell asked, bracing himself on the dash.

  “We got company,” Berlin said, looking in the rearview mirror. “Black SUV. Three cars back.”

  Mitchell took a peek for himself in the passenger’s side mirror. “How long?”

  “Not sure. Maybe the whole way. Could be nothing, but…” Berlin looked ahead, surveying the traffic, as he made his right-hand turn. Traffic was going to be a nightmare. It typically was since they were approaching the mall. Most times you were lucky to even get through the light. He couldn’t let this be one of those times. “Hang on.”

  “What are you—”

  Berlin pushed the gas pedal down to the floor, changing lanes, not bothering to check his blind spot. He had faith. They sailed past the large mall on their right, Berlin noticing a clown standing out on the sidewalk waving to the cars. The clown’s face quickly went from glee to glum in a split second, listening to their tires squeal, watching them leaving a trail of burnt rubber in their wake. It must have been quite the sight.

  Luckily several cars ahead were turning left, probably into the McDonald’s for a bite, which left the path wide open for Berlin. He gave it some more gas, the car lurching backward then forward, Mitchell cursing all the while under his breath. Berlin couldn’t help but to wonder if his partner had seen much action in his short career.

  Berlin kept the car in this lane until he suddenly had to duck back into the right to avoid impact with another car.

  Where was the SUV?

  “Do you see them?” Berlin asked Mitchell.

  Mitchell leaned forward. “They’re still there.”

  “Damn.”

  Berlin held tight to the wheel, following the bend in the road around the curve. He had forgotten how much he had missed this, the thrill of the chase. Except he was used to being the one doing the chasing, not the other way around. This was a first.

  Berlin checked the rearview in time to see the SUV come back into view behind them. There it was, a big, dark, elephant-sized shape in the mirror. Berlin felt like it was laughing at him. Horns blared like rapid fire. It wasn’t every day that people got to see this much action out on the city streets. He knew that he had to be careful.

  So far so good, though. Berlin had plenty of breathing room. Enough room to outmaneuver them. “We gotta get outta here, Mitch. Who knows what could happen. Too many innocents around here.”

  “Duck in here,” Mitchell said, pointing to the side street approaching on their right. “Quick!”

  Mitch had the right idea. Get off the main strip. Head into the suburbs. Not ideal, but better. Berlin took the first right, taking the corner fast, the car tipping ever so slightly. He took another left and pulled into the first driveway that he saw near the corner. Then, he waited.

  They were in the perfect position. From where they sat in the driveway, Berlin and Mitch had a clear view of the main road. For some reason, traffic was at a standstill now. Had there already been an accident? Was it the SUV? The cars were close together, moving inch by slithering inch. Finally the SUV appeared on the left, finding an opening and changing lanes. It crept by with the others at a leisurely pace.

  “Well, looks like they’re SOL, eh?” Mitchell asked. There was no way the SUV would be able to change lanes again, and then make the turn onto the side street, with the traffic being snarled bumper to bumper. The SUV went on by, joining the others in their march westbound.

  “Looks like,” Berlin said.

  “You really think that they were following us?”

  “I don’t know. It sure looked like it. Still, it coulda been my imagination.” Berlin had been feeling paranoid lately.

  “So, what do you wanna do?”

  Berlin watched the intersection for more signs of activity and when he saw none, he put the car in reverse and began to pull out of the driveway. By the time they got onto the street, Berlin became aware of the older woman that was gawking at them from the window of the house that belonged to the driveway from where they had just pulled out. She stood there, gripping the curtain with a claw-like hand. She seemed disgusted or distressed, Berlin couldn’t tell which, the lines in her face masking her true ex
pression. He waved.

  She did not wave back.

  Berlin was chuckling to himself as they came to the stop sign back at the main street.

  “What’s gotten into you?” Mitchell asked.

  “Nothing, nothing. Don’t worry about it.” He checked left, saw it was clear, and then started to turn the wheel.

  It only took a second, a blur of black screaming past his vision. It was there and then it was gone. He completed the turn and checked the rearview mirror again. Nothing.

  Wait for it.

  There. It was the SUV. It emerged like a raging bull, kicking stones and spitting dust. It turned quickly, squealing its tires making the U-turn, aligning itself back behind them.

  “Where did they come from?” Mitchell said, looking over his shoulder.

  “They musta turned around and then they came back for us.”

  “Punch it, partner,” Mitchell demanded. “Ya did it before, you do it again.”

  Berlin stepped on the gas once more. For now, the traffic had lightened up a bit so there was plenty of room to maneuver. He edged left into oncoming traffic, saw it was clear and plunged ahead. They screamed past the others: one, two, three, and then, finally, four cars. Berlin edged back into his lane and checked the rearview mirror for his hunter.

  Mitchell pressed the button to lower his window down. He poked his head outside to get a better look at what lie ahead. “Comin’ up on a school zone, man.”

  “You crazy? Get back in here! They’re liable to shoot yer damn head off.”

  Mitchell slid back inside, mortified.

  Berlin wasn’t sure which came first, the sound of the horns bellowing or the deafening roar of the SUV charging from behind. Either way, the SUV came in fierce and defiant and rammed into the back wheel well. Berlin clung to the wheel, holding with every ounce of his weight and strength. The car slid into the dirt, the tires slipping on the gravel, a blast of fine brown particles cascading behind it.

  “Son of a bitch!” Berlin cried.

  Behind them, the SUV turned its wiper blades on to wash away the dirt and then descended on them again. The engine howled like a living, breathing thing and struck the back of the car. The impact sent sparks, little dancing fireflies jumping up and down, as metal scraped on metal. Berlin’s car screamed in agony.