Edge of Tomorrow

by Wolf Wootan

  “There is blood on your knee, too. It must have happened when you smashed his nose,” commented Hatch, as he took the opportunity to stare openly at her breasts and lovely, long legs.

  A crowd had formed at this point. Some of them had screamed when they saw the bloody scene, others swooned, some lost their lunch. A restaurant security guard appeared and was staring at the two men on the ground.

  “Get those people back onto the patio,” Hatch told him, taking charge. “All except that lady over there. She was a witness.”

  He pointed to the lady who had come out of the Ladies’ Room and screamed, possibly saving Steppe’s life.

  “What’s your whole name, Knight in Shining Armor?” Steppe asked Hatch.

  “Van Lincoln,” he replied. “And yours is?”

  “Sydney Steppe. And I am very pleased to meet you. I was in big trouble.”

  She thought for a second, then looked at the men on the ground. Sirens were getting closer.

  “I’m not going to have trouble with the police over this, am I?” she asked finally. “Or for that matter, are you?”

  “I hope not. They assaulted you. A clear case of self defense. Fortunately, we have a witness, assuming she is coherent enough to relate what happened. It all happened very fast. Carlos, the waiter, saw some of it. Of course, I’m a witness. I saw them attack you and you defended yourself—admirably, I must say. Where did you learn to do what you did here today? The ordinary housewife doesn’t have moves like that.”

  “First of all, I’m not a housewife—or ordinary. Second, I could ask you the same question. You snapped that guy’s neck like it was a twig.”

  Hatch saw two uniformed cops and two paramedics, the latter carrying emergency equipment, coming in their direction.

  “Let’s have that discussion at some other time, Ms. Steppe. Let me do the talking to the police. You just act like a distraught victim,” Hatch cautioned her.

  “I am the victim, Mr. Lincoln!” Her dark eyes flashed at him. He liked it, and smiled inwardly.

  This is one tough lady! I need to arrange things so I can spend some time with her. I may get lucky after all!

  “I said distraught!” he smiled wickedly.

  “I am distraught! Do I have to act like your hysterical ordinary housewife? I wish I could have cut their balls off and stuffed them in their mouths. Slimy bastards!” She was fuming.

  “Calm down, the cops are here,” he said in a low voice.

  When the two cops saw the blood and the two men on the concrete walkway, they put their hands on their gun butts and unsnapped the safety straps. Hatch saw potential, unneeded trouble brewing. They seemed familiar to him; he attended most police social functions when he could, contributed to the Policeman’s Ball Fund, and passed out free turkeys on Thanksgiving and Christmas. Maybe they would recognize him. He stepped in their direction and waved.

  “All secure here, officers,” he said, trying to reassure them that the trouble was over. The bigger of the two waved back as they approached, seeming to relax a bit.

  “How are you, Mr. Lincoln? Mike Croce, in case you forgot. Thanks again for the turkey. The old lady was really very happy!” the cop said, shaking Hatch’s hand. “What’s the story here?”

  “Paramedics! Over here. This man may still be alive,” Hatch yelled. Then more calmly he answered the cop.

  “Well, Mike, these two on the ground assaulted this young lady here,” he said, pointing to Sydney Steppe. The paramedics were each checking a man on the ground.

  “No pulse here,” stated the paramedic checking the man with the broken neck.

  “Got a faint one here,” said the other.

  The paramedic who had checked the man with the broken neck stood up and looked at Sydney Steppe, seeing the blood on her.

  “How about you, ma’am? Where are you hurt?” he asked.

  “Not my blood, theirs. I’m fine,” she answered with a shrug, looking over at Hatch.

  Who is this gorgeous man who just came into my life? He saves my life, snapping that prick’s neck like a match stick. The cops know him, and are deferential to him. Hmm. I love the hint of gray in his beard and hair. I wonder how old he is. But who in the hell is he, really?

  While the paramedics started yelling orders to get the stretchers and IVs, and spouted other medical jargon, Hatch looked up and saw a man in street clothes approaching. He had a badge pinned on his jacket. Hatch let out a sigh of relief and waved at him. This was Lieutenant Jerry Jackson of the Collier County Sheriff’s Department; he and Hatch knew each other from a previous incident.

  “Well, Mike, it looks like the heat has arrived, so I’ll wait and explain everything when he gets over here—so I won’t have to repeat it so many times,” said Hatch to the big cop as he motioned toward Jackson.

  “Well, Mr. Lincoln, what exactly do we have here—this time?” the lieutenant asked, surveying the killing field.

  Sydney’s thoughts were racing.

  This time? What sort of man is this hunk? I’d better watch what I say until I know what he is all about. I do wish I looked a little better. My hair’s a mess, blood all over me. I’ve made better first impressions!

  “Glad you pulled this assignment, Jerry. I would hate to have to break in a new detective,” laughed Hatch as he shook hands. “What we have here are two guys who assaulted and tried to kidnap this young lady over here. Ms. Sydney Steppe. Ms. Steppe, meet Lt. Jerry Jackson.”

  As she shook Jackson’s hand, Sydney thought, That’s the second time that he has called me ‘young lady.’ I think I should be flattered, but I’m not sure. I am thirty-three. I wonder how old he thinks I am.

  The homicide detective peered at the bodies and shook his head. He looked Sydney over, noticing that not only did she have a great body, but she had blood on her left knee and on her shirt. It appeared to have been quite a battle.

  “It looks like that was a fatal mistake on their part. What is their condition?” he asked, directing his second remark to the paramedics.

  Paramedic number one looked up and answered, “This one with his head at a funny angle was dead when we arrived. The guy with the knife in his chest just died. Massive internal bleeding. He bled out before we could do anything.”

  The detective shrugged and again faced Hatch Lincoln and queried, “Can you explain to me how the bad guys came out so badly in their assault on Ms. Steppe?”

  “Well, Lieutenant,” Hatch replied deliberately, “I can give you my version, but that lady over there came out of the Ladies’ Room just as the attack started. I haven’t talked to her, so I don’t know how coherent and under control she is, but maybe she can give you an independent account of what happened.”

  Hatch was interested in hearing how the witness would describe the incident. It could influence how he related his version.

  “All right. Let’s go see what she has to say,” the lieutenant said.

  Hatch and Sydney Steppe followed him over to where the distraught woman was being comforted by a woman with a badge pinned on her coat.

  “Is this our witness, Sergeant?” Jackson asked the woman detective.

  “Yes, sir. This is Mrs. Clara James. Mrs. James, this is Lieutenant Jackson. Are you up to answering some questions for him?” she nearly cooed to the old woman, who was wringing a handkerchief in her hands.

  “Yes, I think so,” she replied as she wiped her eyes with the damp handkerchief.

  Detective Jackson used a soothing voice.

  “Just tell us what you saw, in your own words. I know it was a terrible incident to witness, but just think back and tell me what you can remember.”

  She wrung her hands some more, and then started talking in a low voice.

  “I was just coming out of the Ladies’ Room when I heard a woman’s voice scream, ‘Hey, what are you doing?’ I looked in the direction of the voice and I saw those two men over there,” pointing at the two bodies as she paused, “grab this young lady here,” pointing at Sydney Steppe,
“and they started pulling her that way.”

  She indicated the archway leading to the parking lot.

  She continued, “I think I must have screamed at that point, because the two men both looked in my direction. Maybe I distracted them for an instant, because this lady jerked loose from the one man and turned and kneed the other man. Just what he deserved! How dare he! He doubled over, and I think she must have kneed him again, because I remember seeing blood splash on her. But I was really watching the other man because he pulled out this big knife. I was terrified! I wanted to scream and warn her, but my throat wouldn’t make a sound.”

  She looked at Steppe and whined, “I’m so sorry, dear. I wanted to warn you!”

  “That’s OK, Mrs. James. Your first scream helped me a whole bunch!” Sydney Steppe replied gratefully. She smiled at Mrs. James, trying to put her at ease, wanting to soften her guilt.

  “Thank you, my dear,” Mrs. James went on. “Then, that man behind her grabbed her hair and put the knife around like he was going to cut her throat.” She paused, wiping her eyes again.

  Hatch thought, So far, so good. Let’s see what she says next. It could be critical. I’ll interrupt her if she says the wrong thing.

  “Go on, Mrs. James. What happened next?” prodded Jackson.

  “Well, then this gentleman,” she continued, pointing at Hatch, “came running around that corner and grabbed the man and pulled him away from her. The man let go of her hair and dropped his knife and fell to the ground. I expected him to jump back up, but he never did.”

  She wiped her eyes again and looked at Steppe.

  “You poor thing. I was so frightened for you! I was so happy when this man showed up to help you.”

  Sydney reached over and patted her hand.

  “So am I, Mrs. James,” consoled Sydney.

  “What happened next is hazy. I know the bloody man picked up the knife and stood up. He started towards the lady, who had her backed turned. Then this dear man,” indicating Hatch again, “yelled to her to look out, that the other man had the knife. The man raised the knife to stab her, and then—this is hazy—the lady grabbed at the knife hand, and the next thing I know he was on the ground with the knife in him. He must have slipped, or something, and fell on it. I don’t know. It happened so fast. I was just so glad she was safe!”

  She can stop now! Hatch hoped. We don’t need any more detail. Her version so far could not be better.

  Jackson stroked his chin and looked at the two bodies again, then at Steppe.

  “Sounds like you handled yourself quite well, Ms. Steppe,” said Jackson.

  “I took an ordinary housewife self-defense course,” she replied, glancing at Hatch slyly.

  This Ms. Steppe sure had a lucky day, mused Jackson. Two men grab her, and then by luck the old lady steps out of the can and screams. This lets her break loose and clobber one. Then, just as she’s about to get her throat cut, this mysterious Mr. Lincoln shows up and pulls the bad guy off of her. This guy falls down and breaks his neck, somehow. Then when the other guy tries to stab her again, he falls down on his own knife, stabbing himself. These must have been two of the most inept, accident-prone crooks in Florida! What am I missing? I will be interested in how many prints show up on that knife.

  Then, aloud, he said to Mrs. James, “Can you think of anything else we should know, Mrs. James? Like, did you see anyone else witness the attack?”

  “No. Just me and the gentleman who came to her aid. And he’s the one who told the waiter to call 911.”

  “Fine. We’d like you to come downtown and make a formal statement, if you are up to it. While the whole thing is fresh in your mind. The Sergeant will drive you, then take you wherever you want to go. Do you need to call anyone?”

  “Yes, I would like to call my son and let him know where I am,” she answered.

  “Sergeant, could you take care of that. Please?”

  “Yes, sir. Right away. Come with me, Mrs. James. You can use my cell phone.”

  The two of them walked off toward the parking lot where several police cars were parked.

  Hatch spotted Danny in the crowd and nodded his head slightly toward the bodies. Danny nodded back and moved inconspicuously to a position where he could get clear shots with his telephoto lens.

  “Is that about the way you saw it, Mr. Lincoln?” asked Jackson.

  Hatch stroked his beard and replied, “She pretty much summed it up. She saw more than I did. I was just on my way to the head when I stumbled in on the incident. I don’t think I can add very much, except that I am glad Ms. Steppe is safe now.”

  “Have either of you seen these two before?”

  They both shook their heads in the negative.

  “Have you met Ms. Steppe before?” This was directed at Hatch.

  “No. And this is a terrible circumstance in which to meet such a lovely lady. I’d like to offer my assistance to you in any way I can, Ms. Steppe. This has been a dreadful ordeal for you,” Hatch smiled.

  She smiled back—that gorgeous smile—at him.

  “Thank you, Mr. Lincoln. That is so gracious of you. My nerves are shattered, so I would like to go and finish my drink, if nobody minds. Maybe you could join me? Lieutenant? Any objections?”

  “We’re going to need statements from both of you. Go have your drinks. I’ll send a uniform over to get your contact information. Now, I need to take control of this crime scene. I’ll be talking to you later.”

  He began barking orders to his men.

  Sydney retrieved her purse from the ground where she had dropped it, then she and Hatch walked back to her table and sat down. Her wine was warm now.

  “That wine looks dead. Let me get you a fresh one. I was drinking wine, too, but after that little shindig, I think I’ll switch to something stronger.”

  He saw Carlos staring at them. She was a sight. Her hair was mussed, and her shirt was bloody. Hatch beckoned for Carlos to come to the table.

  “Carlos, I need a double gin on the rocks—my usual brand. How about you, Ms. Steppe?”

  “Please call me Syd. After all, we just faced death together. My death! Give me the same, Carlos.”

  Lord, he’s a handsome man! Reminds me of Harrison Ford, and with that beard, more like Indiana Jones. He does have gray in his beard and hair. I’m no good at guessing ages, however. He sure saved this girl’s ass today! I’ll have to figure out a good way to thank him for that.

  She ran her hand through her hair, trying to smooth it.

  “May I call you Van, Mr. Lincoln? I feel fate has intertwined our destinies today,” she asked.

  “No, you may not.”

  She looked shocked, and then embarrassed.

  “You may call me Hatch. Absolutely nobody calls me Van except business people who try to get close to me. My real friends call me Hatch.”

  She relaxed, and gave him the smile. He smiled back, a tingle running up his spine.

  “Well, thank you, Hatch. I was stunned for a moment at my rudeness in asking. But you have a way about you that had put me so completely at ease. Again, I apologize.”

  “No apology necessary, Syd. Also, I hope you are right about what fate has in store for us.”

  It was his turn to try the smile on her, and he unknowingly turned her giddy inside.

  Who is this man? He has no wedding ring, but that never means anything. Some lucky woman must have dibs on him. I need to make sure I see him again, soon! I haven’t had a date since I got to this place! A little male companionship would be welcomed.

  Carlos delivered their drinks. Hatch picked up his drink, and as she did the same, he clinked his against hers and said, “Here’s to survival—of the fittest!”

  “And to Mrs. James, bless her heart! I hope she sticks to her story,” Syd added to the toast.

  Hatch started laughing, so hard that he had to put his drink down to keep from spilling it. When he caught his breath, he said, “You mean the story about those guys falling down dead?”
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br />   She started laughing with him and they both were wiping tears out of their eyes. They sipped the straight gin for a moment, and finally stopped the laughing. He felt it hit bottom in his stomach, then spread. She felt it, too, but in a more sensual way.

  This seems so natural, sitting with this hunk, laughing, drinking. I’ve only known him thirty minutes, but it is so comfortable. I must see him again under better circumstances, when I look my best—not like a bloody hag!

  A uniformed policeman approached the table and said, “The lieutenant needs to know how to get in touch with you two later. I hate to bother you, but it’s necessary procedure.”

  “No problem, Officer,” smiled Hatch. “Here’s my local business card. It has my office and home phone numbers on it—also, addresses if he needs them. Even fax numbers.”

  Syd rattled off her numbers to him, and he wrote them in his notebook. He copied the information off of Hatch’s card, then pocketed it.

  “Thank you, folks,” he mumbled, then left.

  “So you live over in the Caxambas area. That’s a nice neighborhood,” commented Hatch.

  “Yes, and I had better get home. I need a shower and a change of clothes!” Syd answered.

  He thought, I would really like to watch that! Maybe scrub her back! Among other things!

  She looked down at her bloody shirt. This allowed Hatch to glace at her breasts straining against her shirt without being too obvious. He liked what he saw.

  “I don’t think that would be too wise right now, Syd.”

  “Why not?”

  “Think about it, Syd. Those two bastards were not just a coincidence—two guys trying to grab a broad for later fun? No, I don’t think so. They were stalking you. Do you have any idea why?” Hatch queried with a raised eyebrow.

  “Shit! Excuse my language, but they were what? Stalking me? How do you know?” Syd exclaimed, getting very upset.

  Hatch took the opportunity to reach over and put his hand over hers. She did not pull it away.

  “They were sitting over there at that far table. They watched you all through lunch, and then followed you when you went to the Ladies’ Room. Luckily, I followed them.”