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

by Adam Netherlund

  The air left Berlin’s lungs and his head hit pavement, a bright flash of pain sending a shockwave throughout his entire system. When he came to, Berlin pushed back at Ecker while he was heaving and pitching to get him off. It was then that he heard the faint sound of gurgling and the rasp of Ecker’s voice.

  “You son…of a…” Ecker wheezed.

  At least Ecker was still alive.

  For now.

  Berlin picked himself up off of the hard surface and retreated deeper into the shadows. He didn’t want any more surprises. His head hurt like hell. He’d wait the damn streetlight out this time. No more taking chances. It sounded like time was finally on his side, anyway.

  A few moments later, the light came back on and Berlin made his way over to the stretched out Ecker. He lay there, clutching at his side, a small pool of blood beginning to seep underneath him. He was drenched in sweat and his long trench coat was cast open, revealing the spot where the blade had gone into him. From what Berlin could tell, it looked like it had gone into the lower ribcage. The blade still stuck out of him.

  “You’re finished,” Berlin told him.

  “Shoulda…killed you,” Ecker said. He tried to take a deep breath, but ended up coughing and spitting blood. He was battling the pain, that much Berlin could see. It was in his eyes. The determination. “Finish it then. Get on with it.”

  Berlin heard his words, but they meant nothing to him. There would be no finishing here. Not by him. “Regretfully, I must decline your offer, sir.”

  “What?” He coughed again. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m done with regrets, Ecker. I can’t keep going on that way.” Berlin knelt down, reached into Ecker’s coat and pulled out the man’s cell phone.

  “What are you doing?”

  Berlin smiled. “If you and Clay really were partners once upon a time, or whatever you want to call it, I imagine that I’ll find him somewhere in your phone here, right?”

  “No! You can’t…”

  Berlin scrolled through the contacts list. It pleased him greatly to find Exodus Clay listed at the end of the list simply under ‘X.’ It was so covert-like. “Excuse me for a moment.”

  “Berlin…”

  Berlin strolled through the lot, thankful that they hadn’t attracted much attention down here. They’d been lucky.

  “Put him on,” Berlin said once the call was answered.

  There was a long pause as the call was handed off to Exodus Clay.

  “Who’s this?” Clay asked.

  “I’d rather not say, if it’s all the same to you,” Berlin said. “Anyway, I have something that you’ve been looking for.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Come to Western Hill. The railway station. You need to hurry. Ignore the car with the dead guy in it. You want the other thing. Make sure you take his car, too.”

  “Oh?”

  “Get rid of his phone and the car later. And one last thing, might I suggest the Hector Sousa?” This was followed by silence from Clay. Berlin couldn’t help himself. Clay obviously wouldn’t openly admit to killing Hector Sousa, but the killing method did intrigue him. And for someone as dirty and corrupt as Ecker, it at least allowed Berlin to dream of what he would do to him if given the right opportunity.

  “Whatever you say,” Clay finally said.

  Berlin hung up and looked down at the bleeding chief on the pavement. He put the cell phone back into Ecker’s inside pocket. “It’s game over for you, Ecker. Pretty sure your friends will be excited to see you again, though.”

  “You’re crazy…you’re no different from us.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. That’s not up to me to decide.”

  “You’ll never catch him…in time.”

  Simmons. He was right. He’d been wasting so much time, fighting and taunting Ecker that he’d forgotten all about him.

  “Right. Well let’s get you situated, and then I’ll deal with him.”

  CHAPTER 51

  They had been driving around the city for the last forty-five minutes, searching aimlessly for any sign of Mitchell’s partner, Berlin, and listening to radio chatter. So far, everything was quiet. It was like Berlin had vanished, along with Simmons and Lexi Scott.

  Mitchell knew that they had to be somewhere. They had to be still in the city, he tried to convince himself. It pained him to know that his partner was out there all alone, fending for himself. It was like that feeling you get when you know something is wrong, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. Did you forget something important? Did you lock the front door? That sorta thing. It was worry. It was burden. Mitchell’s stomach churned.

  “Looks like the rain finally stopped,” Montoya said. She was in the driver’s seat, Mitchell was in the passenger seat. “Hey, you hearing me there?”

  Mitchell continued to stare out of the window, thinking of what his Pop had said back at the hospital. ‘Never leave a man behind.’ They were partners. Partners look out for one another.

  “Mitch?” Montoya repeated.

  “What? Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

  “I said, it looks like the rain finally stopped.”

  Mitchell leaned over to look up through the windshield. All he saw were streetlights and the night sky. “Looks like.”

  “We’ll find him, okay?”

  Mitchell went back to his window. “I don’t like this,” he said. “The last time that I talked to him, he was going after Simmons. That was hours ago, Mon.”

  “Yeah, but I talked with him a little while ago. He was fine then.”

  “A lot could have changed since then. We don’t know what Simmons is capable of. We don’t even know where to look, ya know?” He was looking at her, waiting for some sort of sign of acceptance. She finally gave in with a nod. “Bet you’re gonna be happy to get away from here, eh?”

  She grinned. “Yeah, me and the missus will be on cloud nine. I still can’t believe it myself. I’ve never been on a cruise. It’s going to be breathtaking. I can feel it. I won’t ever wanna come back.”

  Mitchell was thinking, I probably wouldn’t, but he didn’t dare to say it aloud. That got him to think, when was the last time that he and Jaden had gone away? It felt like it had been an awfully long time.

  Since the honeymoon? That can’t be right.

  Delanna was six now. Six. Yeah, it had been a long time.

  “Well, enjoy yourself, all right? I mean it. Time has a habit of slippin’ away and you don’t ever get that back. ”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Hold that thought.”

  Mitchell looked over at her. “What’s up?”

  “I’m buzzing. Ugh. I can’t get it,” she said, contending with getting the cell phone out while keeping the car straight.

  “There’s a reason they passed the hands free law, ya know. Here, let me.” Mitchell reached over inside her coat. She pulled her hand away, startled. “Where is it?”

  She gave a small laugh, a rosy glow forming in her cheeks. “Uh…”

  “I’m not tryin’ anything, I’m just tryin’ to get the phone,” Mitchell told her. “It could be important.” He retrieved it and took a look at the call display. It was him. It was Berlin. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  “What?”

  Mitchell sat back in his seat and pressed the icon. “Berlin?”

  “Mitch? Mitch, is that you?”

  “You know it, brother. Where you at?”

  “Wait. You’re with Montoya?”

  “I am.”

  “What about the hospital? You should really—”

  “Who is it? Is that Berlin?” Montoya was asking.

  “What?” Berlin asked.

  “Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Mitchell said, while also telling Montoya to keep quiet. “Where are you? We’ve been trying to find you. Is everything all right?”

  “You need to close the Skyway, Mitch.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “The Skyway, Mitch. Do it now.”


  “Is this about Simmons?”

  “Yeah. Send the word out. He’s heading for the border. If we’re lucky, he hasn’t gone through yet. You know what the border’s like.”

  “Word. They could be there for hours. He could be stuck there right now. I’ll put a call in to Border Patrol and we’ll box him in.”

  “Exactly. I’m already en route.”

  “How’d you find out?”

  “What?”

  “How do you know that he’s there?”

  “I don’t have time to explain, Mitch. Get it done. You need to do this for me. My battery’s almost dead and we’re running out of time.”

  “All right, all right. Be safe. We’ll be there as soon as we can.” Berlin hung up and Mitchell left the phone in his lap, dwelling on what to do. It was now or never. He had to make a choice.

  “What happened?” Montoya asked.

  “He said that we gotta close the Skyway. Said that Simmons is heading for the border.”

  “Jeez…this whole thing is just getting crazier and crazier. Ecker’s gonna be pissed when he finds out.”

  Mitchell snickered. “Enough about Ecker. My man’s out there. Let’s go get him. Make the call, Montoya.”

  ***

  Berlin was putting the loaner car through its paces and, so far, it hadn’t given him any indication that it would let him down. After leaving Ecker handcuffed to his steering wheel in the parking lot, Berlin had left downtown and made his way to the highway. The whole exchange had taken less than ten minutes. That wasn’t bad, considering the traffic and construction.

  As he came to the stop sign at Grantham and Dunkirk, he checked left at the one way and then changed lanes and accelerated onto the QEW. He wasn’t sure which direction Simmons would be coming from, but he hoped that he wasn’t too late. Not wanting to solicit extra attention, Simmons wouldn’t be able to rely on his police powers by using the art of sirens and blazing speed. At least Berlin had that on his side. Or, so he hoped.

  Berlin pushed ahead, his lights and sirens firing, and moved to the far left lane. He was a howling train of momentum in the dark night.

  Where are they?

  The highway should have been packed with black and whites by now. Instead, Berlin was greeted with wall-to-wall traffic and red taillights in a matter of seconds. He slacked off on the gas and guided the car farther to the left at the shoulder.

  This isn’t happening.

  Not now.

  Berlin sounded his siren and continued to creep close to the shoulder. He moved at a snail’s pace, edging along, as other driver’s checked him out while they were rubbernecking at the first sign of commotion. He blasted his horn at a group of men who had gotten out of their cars, and now blocked his path. They paced around like lost soldiers who had been too close to a roadside bomb. Confused, disoriented, and slightly uncomfortable. One of them ventured closer to Berlin’s vehicle, coming to the side window.

  “What’s going on? Is there an accident ahead or somethin’?” he asked Berlin.

  “Not that I’m aware of,” Berlin said, omitting his request for the Skyway to be shut down.

  “Well, a few minutes back, all kinds of police flew past us. They sure looked like they were in a hurry. Now everything’s stopped.”

  “Oh,” was all Berlin managed to say.

  “You should probably check it out.”

  Berlin gave a nod. “I’ll do that. Now get back in your cars, please.” The men retreated and did as he asked and Berlin moved on. Over time traffic began to move again, albeit very slowly.

  As he neared the top of the Skyway, he was beginning to see what all the fuss was about. The center and right lanes were thoroughly blocked by police. The whole gang was present, including the Marine Unit, EMS, a large white unmarked cube van, and many more. Spotlights cast their potent warm light at a corner of the bridge. It drew the eye from a distance.

  Berlin’s stomach clenched. Was he too late?

  He parked his car close to the others and approached with trepidation. So far, he still couldn’t see very much. There were simply too many vehicles, too many lights, and too much noise. They drowned everything out. He saw a traffic cop, directing the flow of cars, his yellow-green reflective vest shining brightly in their headlights. It was then that he noticed that traffic had been diverted on the opposite side of the highway as well. There were no cars to be found.

  Berlin reached the crowd and worked his way through the mass, encountering only a few familiar faces. No one stopped him. He found his lieutenant later, engaged on a call, his face fraught and troubled. Once Lieutenant Knox saw him, he flagged him down and Berlin waited for him to finish.

  Knox looked him up and down. “Detective, good of you to join us. We’ve been eager to know your whereabouts.”

  “So I hear,” Berlin ground his teeth, anticipating the next response.

  “So, this is all your doing, then?”

  “Uh,” Berlin began, but then he realized that he didn’t know what ‘this’ was. “I’m not sure I understand, Lieutenant.”

  Knox stretched his neck, puckering his chin up, and smoothed the skin on his neck with a finger. Berlin imagined that the act being a stress reliever for the lieutenant. “Well, word is…you told your partner to close the bridge. I’m not sure how they did it without authorization. But the next thing I know, I’m getting calls from the Chief of Police. Angry calls, Detective.”

  “All right.”

  “Now, of course, I’m not used to handling calls from the Chief of Police, that’s more Ecker’s forte. But since he’s also MIA right now, the call fell onto me.”

  Berlin felt his mouth go dry.

  “I’m not sure why I’m the last one to know what’s going on right now, since I’m your goddamn Lieutenant, but apparently you’ve been conducting a search of your own.”

  “Sir, I—”

  “Well, we found him, but there’s good news and bad news.”

  “Sir?”

  “Good news is that we found him, of course, and we’ve got him cornered. He’s not going anywhere. Bad news is that he took down two patrol officers already, and he says that he has a bomb. He says that he’ll blow the bridge and take us all with him if we don’t let him go. The negotiator is with him now.”

  A bomb?

  Berlin cast a glance over at the spotlights. What was happening on the other side? He was having a hard time, imagining the scene playing out the way that the lieutenant had described. “Are we sure that it’s a bomb?”

  “Detective?” Knox asked.

  “It doesn’t fit. Suicide bombers don’t act alone. They’re recruited. Guided by a group with the same political or ideological ideas. That’s not Simmons.”

  Knox spread his hands out. “What are you saying? That he’s bluffing? What’s he waiting for?”

  Berlin thought about it. “He’s waiting for me. Let me go talk to him.”

  “I don’t know,” Knox said, looking at his feet. “I’ve got snipers on the way, Detective.”

  “You won’t need them.”

  Knox was pensive, a vein bulging near his temple. “All right. You have until the sniper team gets here. That’s the best that I can do.”

  CHAPTER 52

  Berlin tread lightly. His right hand gripped the raised concrete barrier that separated the bridge from the drop into the water below. It was a long way down and Berlin pictured Tim Scott, lying there on the rocks, staring back at him with those open dead eyes, splayed out for the entire world to see.

  Are you watching, Tim? Will you help me save her?

  Berlin stepped into the spotlight, its warmth providing the first real comfort that he had all day. He thought of Kate and her calm, relaxing touch. It felt like that. His coat was still damp from the earlier rain, sticky and clammy, with a hint of the smell of mildew. He couldn’t wait to take a shower. Hopefully it would be in the comfort of his own home and not a jail cell.

  Knox acted as though he was willing to talk, especial
ly with Ecker unaccounted for, but Berlin knew better. Ecker was gone. Clay would see to that.

  One down, one more to go, he mused.

  As Berlin got close, he saw Simmons as he stood next to the concrete barrier just a few feet ahead. He held a large thing that looked like a crate and he had it propped up on the barrier with one hand. In the other hand he held a handgun. It was pointed down at the ground. He looked a little worse for wear. Tired and a bit bored. His nose still sported the Band-Aid and his hair was wet, enclosing his face in long dark streaks. A large gash on the side of his face was caked with blood.

  Berlin left the barrier and sauntered out in front, between the police battalion and Simmons. It was then that he saw the shadowed figure flopped out in the middle of the highway. Dead. He didn’t look like a patrolman so Berlin presumed he was one of Simmons’ men. Berlin ignored him.

  “What’s this I hear about a bomb, Simmons?”

  Simmons squinted at an attempt to see into the light. “Who’s that?”

  “It’s Berlin, Simmons.”

  “Detective Berlin. Well, I wish I could say that I’m surprised to see you, but…at least Ecker won’t be running off with my money anytime soon, eh?”

  “No, he’s probably a little tied up right ‘bout now.”

  Simmons was nodding. “Ah, just as well. I shoulda known the jig was up. We got too greedy, I guess. Just like them junkies. Never know when to quit, do we?”

  Berlin gestured with his palms open to show that he was unarmed. He then nodded at the crate held up by Simmons on the concrete barrier. “What is that, Simmons? What’s really in there?”

  Simmons scratched at his temple with the end of the gun and brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. Berlin could see now that he was sweating from the heat of the spotlights. “Kinda fitting, dontcha think?”

  “What’s that?” Berlin asked him.