Footsteps approached in the distance and she leaned back in the chair, willing herself to get away, to seek refuge. The steps were becoming louder now. He would be at the door soon.
Stomp, stomp, stomp.
She cringed and clasped her knees tightly together, her right foot tapping in trepidation.
A second later the door unlocked, swung open, and Simmons’ silhouette appeared in the doorway.
“You all right in here?” Simmons asked her as if it were like any other day.
“Fine,” she told him through pursed lips.
“Almost show time. Just sit tight, Lex.”
“You said that hours ago.”
“I know,” Simmons said, drawing closer. “I mean it this time. I had some calls to make. Some things that still had to be ironed out. We’re good to go now.”
“Who were you talking to? Was that Detective Berlin?”
“Well, aren’t you the little nosy one.” He stood in front of her. “How much did you hear?”
She wouldn’t look at him. “Enough. Something about rippin’ my heart out.”
Simmons gave a nod. “That’s just tough guy talk.” He reached over to her and began to stroke her hair. “I wouldn’t hurt you, Lex. I couldn’t.”
She tried to brush him off, shaking her head violently to one side. “That didn’t stop you from killing Tim.”
He knelt down in front of her. “That was different, Lex. That was business. Besides, if Tim hadn’t stuck his nose into it, then nothing would have happened. I swear to you.”
She couldn’t believe him. More lies. That’s all they were. “What happened to you? What happened to that guy that used to come over to our house for barbecues?”
His face went dark. “That guy is gone, Lex. I’m not him. I can’t be him anymore.”
She leaned over so that she could look him in the eye. “It’s not too late. Just…let me go. You can still make this right.”
He turned away, presumably to avoid her teary eyes. “I can’t. Berlin has something that I need. Once I have it, I’ll let you go. What’s done is done, Lex. No goin’ back now.”
“Please.”
Simmons stood and pushed back the strands of hair that had fallen in his face and looked down at her. “Just sit tight. I’ll come and get you when it’s time.” He headed back for the door.
“He’ll find me, you know,” she called after him.
“Who? Berlin?”
“Yes.”
Simmons turned around, smiling. “Honey, do you even know his first name?”
She thought about it, but then realized that he was right. His name escaped her.
“I thought not.” Simmons must have read the frustration and disappointment on her face because next he said, “You two a thing?” She said nothing. “Is that it? You shouldn’t have said anything, Lex. Now I kinda wanna have some fun with him.”
She cast her face down at her lap, disillusioned. How could she be so careless? So stupid?
CHAPTER 46
Berlin paced back and forth on Great Western Street, named after the Great Western Railway company. Back in 1853, the company had built the first railway station on this land. The station would eventually change hands several times over the years. First to Grand Trunk Railway in 1898, then to CN Rail in 1923, before finally settling with Via Rail in 1986.
Berlin walked to the single level pavilion-styled station with the green roof and took notice of the empty parking lot in the community of Western Hill. A few years earlier, he and his wife had taken several weekend excursions on the GO transit into the big city. Whether it be to catch a ball game, a concert, or a special night out on the town, they were moments not to be missed. Not to be forgotten.
Now the station was a ghost town, void of any activity. There would be no new memories made here. No goodbye kisses, no warm embraces, no helping hands lent on the station platform.
What it was, though, was the ideal place to have a private meeting. Berlin knew that there’d be no prying eyes around here.
Berlin kicked a pebble, skittering across the lot, and watched it as it jumped and tumbled into the tall long grass.
A red Lexus GS 350 approached from the South, its bright headlights looking like a pair of silver dragon’s eyes in the gloom and soggy night. The driver parked the car next to the station and, a second later, Special Agent William Widmark appeared from within and waited for Berlin.
He wasn’t entirely sure how this would go down, but he figured that Widmark would be willing to play ball if it meant that he’d look like the good guy. Berlin would get what he needed and Widmark would be able to go back to Washington with his chin held high, holding the golden ticket in his hand.
It was risky, but it was certainly worth a shot.
They shook hands once Berlin reached him, Widmark saying, “I didn’t expect to hear from you, Detective. You just caught me. Another day, and I’d be gone.”
“Well, I’m glad,” Berlin said.
“So, what’s this about? You sounded a little desperate on the phone.”
Berlin tilted his head, looking down at the empty platform to his right. “Things have taken a turn. I guess, looking back, it was staring me in the face the entire time. I was just too stupid to see it.”
Widmark smiled. “We all make mistakes, Detective. We all stumble. It’s what we do afterwards that counts.”
Berlin nodded. “I’m ready to play ball, Widmark, but I need you to do something for me.”
Widmark was surprised, his eyebrows rising. “What changed your mind?”
Berlin took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be easy. He had been preparing himself for the words that he would say next during the entire car ride over here. Berlin was a proud man. He hated to admit defeat. He hated to ask for help. Worst of all, he hated the look on people’s faces when he finally did either one. “You were right. This department is sick, rotting from the inside like cancer. I need your help.”
“Big words.” Widmark looked around the parking lot and said, “What is it that you’re looking for me to do? We better be talking about the files here.”
“We are,” Berlin told him.
“Have you looked at them?”
“I have. There’s a lot of bona fide intel in there, but some of it’s in code. Maybe your team can crack it. You have a team for that sort of thing, right?”
“What’s the catch?”
“I need four hundred thousand dollars.”
Widmark laughed. “Not gonna happen, bud. I don’t know what—”
“You don’t understand, it has to happen.”
“Why?”
Berlin watched the nearby streetlight go out, the platform engulfed in darkness. He waited for it to come back on before he said, “They have Tim Scott’s wife. They’ve murdered two people already in the span of four days. They’ve also tried to come after my partner and me earlier today. This isn’t going to end well.”
Berlin watched the gears turn in Widmark’s head. Finally he said, “Why do you say, ‘they’?”
“I think there’s more than one involved in this. It was something Simmons said. It makes sense.”
“Simmons?”
“He’s the one who has Lexi Scott.”
“Ah. So a ransom, is it? Wants to make a trade?” He paused. “He’s going to want the files, too. You know that, right?”
Berlin shook his head. “He’s not getting the files.”
Widmark paced around the lot, thinking to himself. With every step he took, Berlin felt that he was one step away from losing Lexi forever. Why did it feel like he was giving him the run-around? Berlin was out of time. Out of options. “Come on, Widmark. What’s it gonna be? This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
Widmark chewed on his bottom lip, contemplating, driving Berlin insane with the excruciating silence. “All right. I’ll make the call and get you the money. Hand over the files.”
Berlin stepped back. “Nuh-uh. When you have the money, we’
ll meet here again. Only then will you get the files.”
“Fine, fine.” Widmark said nothing more as he moved to the car.
Berlin caught up with him. “Remember, Agent, the clock’s ticking. I need that money ASAP.”
Widmark ignored him and got into the driver’s seat.
“Widmark?” Berlin repeated.
Through the open window Widmark muttered, “Yeah, yeah. I know how it works. I’ve been privy to a few ransoms in my day, Detective. Don’t you worry your little head about it.”
Then he reversed out of the spot, headed down the quiet street, eventually turning the corner and out of sight, leaving Berlin all alone in the parking lot.
***
With what looked like nowhere to go and nothing to do but wait, Berlin stood in his living room, reflecting on the past couple of day’s events. It was hard to believe how much had changed in such a short period of time.
He wanted it to be over.
He wanted things to get back to normal.
Not to mention, he still had a career to worry about. Would even have one after this?
Then he remembered about Sully. He still hadn’t heard from him. He tried him one more time, to no avail. He dialed Headquarters next and asked to be patched through to Montoya. With Mitchell still recuperating in the hospital, she was starting to become his go-to choice. She answered on the third ring.
“Hey, it’s Berlin,” he said.
“Berlin? Heeeyy, I was just—”
“Let me go first,” Berlin said. “This is important.”
“Well, I’ve got—” Montoya began.
“Have you seen or heard from Sully at all?”
There was a long pause on the other end and then she asked, “Who?”
“Sully…or, I mean, Patrick Sullivan. Crime scene photographer. I was told he—”
“Oh, right. The mysterious photographer. The one who pulled a no-show.”
“Yeah, that’s the one. Look, I had him doing some work for me on the side and—”
“You what?”
“I need you to put out a BOLO on him, if it hasn’t been done already. He called me earlier and then we got cut off. He sounded agitated, and I’m getting a little worried about him.”
“All right,” Montoya said. “I’ll look into it.”
“Thanks,” Berlin said. “What were you trying to tell me?”
Another long pause. “Uh…we got a problem down here, Berlin.”
What now?
Was it Lexi? Mitch? His mind raced through possible casualties, his heart beating faster and faster. “What is it?”
He heard papers shuffling in the background and then loud voices that sounded like they were growing more irate by the second. “Where are you right now?” she whispered.
“Home, why?” Berlin asked.
“You need to get out of there, Berlin. The suits are all here. Internal Affairs, some guy named Norton.”
He peeked through the blinds at the window, the phone held firmly to his ear, looking at the downpour outside. The raindrops fell from up high, like wet missiles striking the pavement and ricocheting off the glass. The storm reverberated against the house, much like the heartbeat inside his chest. Thumping and thumping. “What’s happened?”
“They just found a body.”
He felt a tingling sensation run over his entire body. “A body. Whose body?”
“It was your doctor, Berlin. They just found her. Murdered. You’re wanted for questioning.”
Berlin pulled away from the blinds. “My…doctor?”
“Yes,” she said.
Berlin frowned. “All right. But still, what’s that got to do with me?”
“They found your prints—”
“Of course they found my prints. She was my doctor and I was—”
“No, no, you don’t understand,” she said. “They found your prints on the murder weapon.”
CHAPTER 47
Paul Mitchell woke in terror. His eyes darted across the room as he tried to get a bearing on his surroundings. He shook his head in denial, willing the dark thoughts away. His pulse raced and he had an uncomfortable pain in his chest. The smell of sweat brought him back from the dream to the here and now.
You’re still in the hospital, Paul, he told himself. It wasn’t real. Just a dream.
He gripped the damp sheets, still searching the room, not believing his own eyes. But everything was as it should be. Hospital bed, beeping machines, dark rainy skies outside. Yes, it was all the same. Nothing had changed.
Why did it feel so real, then?
“You’re losing it, pal. Get hold of yourself,” he muttered.
Was there any truth to what he saw?
Instead of questioning the dream, Mitchell got out of the hospital bed and pulled the cords from his arm and proceeded to get dressed.
He didn’t know why the dream had shown him what it had. But he wasn’t going to waste any more time, laying here arguing about it with himself. If he was right, Berlin needed him and he wasn’t about to let him down.
He opened the door, startling the uniformed officer who was standing watch outside his room.
“Detective?” the officer asked him.
“You got a car here?” Mitchell asked.
“Of course, Detective, but—”
“Good, I need you to take me somewhere.”
***
Montoya had told him that he needed to get out of there, so that was precisely what he had done. After ending the call with her, Berlin had grabbed a few supplies. They included his bulletproof vest (a snug fit now), a small switchblade that he attached to his ankle, the Scott files, and the Glock that Montoya had given him back at HQ.
Not knowing where else to go, he thought it prudent to get back to Western Hill and wait for Widmark there. He knew that he’d be early, but he couldn’t wait to finish this. Now with the entire department trying to hunt him down for something that was so incomprehensible to him, he questioned his methods. His every move.
Should he just turn himself in, even though he hadn’t done anything wrong? Maybe it wouldn’t take long to explain?
No, there wasn’t time for that. He only had one hour. Less now.
Need to keep moving. Put this thing to bed. Worry about the rest later.
Berlin pulled into the parking lot of the railway station, his windshield wipers flapping at full strength. Pulling farther into the lot, he was surprised to see that Widmark was already here. His red Lexus was parked near the station.
Berlin eased ahead cautiously, deciding to park a little bit farther away from him, aligning the car with a clear shot of the exit. The last thing that he wanted was to have Gardens PD show up and have no way to get out of the lot in a hurry. He still had to deal with Simmons.
Berlin got out the car, reached into the back for his long coat and put it on. Since the rain was not letting up, he thought it best to come prepared. He took a look at Scott’s files on the passenger seat, but decided against taking them over to Widmark just yet. No sense of getting them soaked in the rain if Widmark wasn’t able to secure the money. And since he came back to the railway station so quickly, without so much as a phone call, maybe he had been unsuccessful.
He shut the car door, popped his collar, and made his way over to Widmark’s side. For some reason, he still hadn’t got out to meet him.
Figures. Make me get all wet.
Berlin trotted over, pushing against the rain, his feet splashing in puddles. The streetlight went out again overhead as he came up to the vehicle. By the time it came back on and illuminated the Lexus, he saw why Widmark hadn’t gotten out.
“Damn,” Berlin muttered under his breath.
There, within the red Lexus, sat the Special Agent, his window spattered with blood, bone fragments, and brain matter.
***
“Mitch? What are you doing here?” Montoya asked once she saw the wet Mitchell in the Squad Room.
“Montoya,” Mitchell acknowledged
, hurrying past her. He needed to find Berlin. He needed to make sure that he was okay.
“Mitch, hold up,” Montoya said, tugging at his elbow. “Where’s your hospital gown? You should be in the hospital. Look at your head.”
Mitchell’s hand subconsciously went to his head. “It’s fine, Montoya. Just a little banged up. It’s all good.”
“Does Jaden know that you’re here? Ya know she’s gonna freak the eff out.” She kept after him.
Finally Mitchell turned and faced her, the raindrops drizzling down his face. He wiped them away with a hand. “Where’s Berlin?”
Montoya shrugged. “Berlin? I dunno. Half the damn force is out there right now looking for him, though. Why?”
So the kid was right.
On the drive over from the hospital, the young officer that was guarding his door told him that the department was searching for Berlin. He couldn’t provide many details, though. Maybe Montoya would be willing to fill in the blanks? She always behaved as though she liked Berlin.
“What’s goin’ on, Montoya? Why is everyone looking for Berlin when they should really be lookin’ for Simmons? Don’t they know what’s happening right now?”
Montoya put her hands up. “Okay, deep breaths, Mitch. Just…calm down.”
“Calm down? Montoya, come on.”
“They just want to question him. That’s all. I don’t think that he’s done anything wrong. I’m sure the whole thing is just a big misunderstanding.” She paused and surveyed the room.
Mitchell did the same and noticed that there didn’t seem to be a whole lot of people in the vicinity. So far, they had gone unnoticed.
“That Norton guy, though,” she continued, “he has a hard-on for Berlin. Is there a thing between those two? Some kind of grudge match?”
Mitchell narrowed his eyes. “Norton? Can’t say I know the guy.”
“Forget it, then. Look, Berlin called me. Asked me to look into that photographer that’s missing.”
“Sully. Right. He still missing?”
Eyes of the Dead: A Crime and Suspense Thriller (The Gardens Book 1) Page 25