The light changed and she took off, watching the mirror. The car kept a few car lengths behind, but stayed with her when she turned onto Ridgeway. She put on her blinker to get on Nonconnah and the car shifted lanes to follow. At the last minute, she shot past the exit and continued down Ridgeway. The car swerved from the exit to stay on Ridgeway. Oh yeah.
Picking up a little speed, she cruised toward Poplar Avenue, and the car stayed right on her tail. She debated stopping. A confrontation might result in Cami getting free. Or it might end up with Archie taking off with her. But maybe she could delay until Bobby called. It was worth a chance.
The light at Ridgeway and Quince turned yellow and she zipped through it. Still two car lengths behind, the black car had to stop. She did a U turn through the parking lot of a strip mall, sped across Quince and came up behind the car stuck at the light. Damn. It wasn’t the Lincoln. It was a shiny new Crown Victoria. With two men. No Cami. So who the hell was following her?
Several possibilities came to mind, none of them savory. Peeling away, she went up and over a curb on the corner, sped down Quince and hit Kirby Parkway. There was no sign of the car behind her, and she relaxed a little when she turned onto Poplar. She kept her speed down here. This was Germantown, and cops loved to give out tickets. Any more delays and she was liable to miss that phone call. She’d already wasted too much time.
It wasn’t that far to Summer and White Station if she got on the expressway, even with all the construction. Crews had some of the off-ramps closed, and she tried to think if it’d be worth it to take a chance. Traffic got thick on Poplar as she got near Ridgeway again. The air smelled like wet dog, rank and heavy with noxious fumes.
Waiting at the light, she glanced into her side mirror just in time to see the damn black car pull in behind her. It flashed its lights. Oh yeah. Like she’d answer to that.
She gave the bike some gas and wedged between an SUV and the curb, ignoring the angry beep from the driver worried about a scratch. Right turn on red after stop . . . she took the corner and sped down Shady Grove. Memphis loved to confuse newcomers and longtime residents with creative engineering. Ridgeway doglegged three times, changed names twice, and anyone with a city map was bound to have a nervous breakdown trying to figure it out. City engineers had to be on drugs. There was no other rational explanation.
Shady Grove narrowed into a two lane road right past a medical complex. Upscale houses and exclusive gated enclaves sat on each side. Huge trees hung over the road and dripped rain. The road rose and fell in a narrow winding ribbon, ending at a three-way stop. Headlights popped up right behind her. Damn. They’d caught up. Who were those guys? Maybe she could lose them if she took back roads, but time was running out and she didn’t dare take too long.
What the hell were they doing? Falling back, speeding up, hanging like a tick on a hound dog, the black car kept up, even when she made a sudden turn onto Walnut Grove, another six lane main road. Weaving in and out of traffic, she thought she’d lost them once, but when she slowed down to get around a minivan, they bore down on her like a black barracuda.
Gunning the bike, she took another abrupt turn, speeding through a residential area. Tree branches laced overhead, diffusing light from the street lamps. There was no sign of the car in her mirror. She’d lost them. Maybe.
Headlights suddenly loomed up on her right side, coming off one of the side streets, bright and demonic. She gave the bike more gas and careened down the street like she knew where she was going. By this time she didn’t even know where she was or how to get where she needed to be. Bright lights danced over her from behind, glinted off her side mirror.
Who were those guys?
Not even slowing down for railroad tracks, she cornered the next street, a looping curve that swung back around west and crossed Highpoint Terrace. She caught a glimpse of interstate to her right, and tried to remember if this was the street that dead-ended into Chickasaw Country Club. Probably. Unless this bike could climb fences, she’d have to turn back onto Highland, and maybe hit Sam Cooper Parkway. Or maybe not. The thought of trying to outrun those guys while dodging speeding semis was starkly unappealing.
They were close behind when she turned north on Highland, just far enough back she might avoid being a hood ornament if she stopped quickly, but that wasn’t something she wanted to risk. Macon Road was close and would get her to the Cloverleaf shopping center at Summer and White Station if she could just shake these guys.
Who are they? she thought again, palms sweaty on the handle grips, fingers nearly numb as she held on tightly. Muscles ached, arms strained, and her feet were cold. Blood pounded hot and heavy through her veins. She felt slightly sick. And time kept ticking past.
With people getting weekend shopping done, Summer Avenue was pretty busy on Friday night. These were low and middle-income families out here, smaller houses for the most part, tidy and clinging to respectability. Only a few Trans-Ams up on cinder blocks in these yards. A little farther down, prostitutes and drug addicts hung out at an old NiteTime Inn, a seedy motel now when once it had been a decent place for businessmen or travelers to stay. Eons ago.
Her favorite cousin lived a few blocks north, in a nice, neat little brick house in a quiet neighborhood where senior citizens rubbed elbows with young mothers. Harley knew these streets pretty well, and she abruptly turned off Summer. There were more than a few dead-end roads in this area, narrow asphalt edged by trees and sidewalks and often lined with parked cars.
The black car still hung close behind her. Okay. She had an idea.
Macon loomed ahead. She took another right, a quick left, and tires squealed close behind. Taking another right, she sped down the wide street with the black car following. Just ahead, construction barriers littered the side of the road, barring cars from taking the Y ramp onto I-40. Concrete drains, wooden sawhorses with bright orange stripes, and a few flashing lamps warned drivers it was temporarily closed. Chunks of asphalt lay in a pile. Thick red mud, like gumbo, sported a few more sawhorse barriers. A ditch separated the ramp from White Station Road.
She’d always wondered if the Deuce would make it as a dirt bike. This was her chance to find out. Cutting back on acceleration she let the black car get close, slowed like she was about to stop. Blinding lights flashed twice. Her heart raced, her stomach tied in knots, and she clutched the handle grips determinedly as she gauged the right moment. They were almost on her.
She gunned it, then gave the Deuce enough gas to send it leaping forward, across the opposing lane, to fly over the narrow ditch. Airborne for a brief moment, she resisted closing her eyes. Nerves thrummed. This wasn’t as thrilling as she’d always assumed it would be. She hoped she didn’t wet herself
Landing, she spun the bike around and almost lost it, spraying dirt clods out like red bullets. Then she righted, still in one piece. Relief made her want to collapse, but there wasn’t time. She half-expected real bullets.
Instead, blue lights flashed. Cops. Oh shit. A whoop-whoop accompanied the lights. A voice boomed from the unmarked cruiser’s speaker.
“This is Officer Delisi. Stay where you are.”
Fat chance, Delisi. All she needed was for Archie to pass by and see the cops.
She bumped over chewed concrete onto the interstate and got off at the next exit, hung a left on White Station and found the Cloverleaf Shopping Center and the pay phone. It was ringing when she stopped her bike, and she grabbed the receiver.
She jerked it from the hook, saying before he could get in his list of demands, “I want proof you’ve got Cami or this ends right here.”
“Look, bitch, you’re not in any position to make deals.”
“That right? I thought you had to have the necklace today.” That stopped him cold. There was silence for a long beat. She gripped the phone tightly, not sure if it was rain or sweat making it so slick.
“Damn pain in the ass,” he said after a minute, “hold on.”
Harley listened to muffled so
unds like an engine running, and then Cami came on the line. She sounded scared.
“H-H-Harley?”
“Cami, are you all right?”
“I’m-m okay.”
“Listen, I’ll get you away from that jerk as soon as I can, just hold on, okay? Are you close to Summer Avenue?”
Cami made a squeaking sound, and then the nephew came back on the line. “She ain’t gonna answer no questions, cupcake. Bring the necklace and you can take your friend home. Show up without it, you’re both dead.”
“When and where?”
“One hour. Take Jackson to Warford. There’s an industrial park. Stop at the entrance and walk past the empty guard shack. Go down that first road and wait. I’ll find you. And remember what I said. No cops. I’m watching.”
Right. She called Bobby as soon as she hung up, but he didn’t answer his cell phone so she left another message. She thought about calling Morgan but after seeing him with Bates, she still wasn’t sure she could trust him. Maybe she shouldn’t have blown off Delisi. It was hard to know what to do. Archie could still be watching her. No telling what he’d do if blue lights showed up.
Play it by ear, she decided. A convenience store was on the next corner, and she went for coffee and a pit stop. Then she got on the interstate and took the Jackson exit, getting off to head southwest. This was an industrial area, with a Sears warehouse and the Quaker Oats company near a snarl of railroad tracks. Plough, Incorporated lay to her right. Several years ago Yogi and Diva had led a demonstration against animal testing and been arrested in front of Plough. Apparently, the company had no tolerance for that sort of thing, and neither did the MPD.
Warehouses clumped together. She turned off at the Velsico Chemical plant. Another line of warehouses stretched near railroad tracks that stitched weeds and asphalt together in a quilt of debris and barren ground. Huge metal buildings studded both sides of the wide street. Semis hooked to trailers waited in front of closed cargo doors.
Faded paint marked parking spots, and vapor lights shed fuzzy haloes. An air of desolation and eerie emptiness hung in the air. An industrial park was a spooky place at night. The chemical plant smudged the already leaden sky with smoke from tall stacks. Wide strips of asphalt ran between lines of metal buildings. Debris littered chain link fences and parking lots—broken beer bottles, old tires, assorted trash. An empty guard shack stood silent sentry beyond a locked gate. A gust of wind rattled the heavy chain looped through wire. How was she supposed to get in?
She shivered. The rain had cooled everything off. Puddles reflected broken pools of light. The air was wet enough to wash her face in, dripping humidity. She killed the engine on her bike and sat immobile for a moment. Every minute she wasted could mean trouble for Cami. She had to do something, even if it wasn’t top choice. Maybe she should call 911. She opened her backpack. It smelled like barbecue. Probably all over the bottom by now. Damn. She got out her cell phone. Holding it in one hand and the can of Mace in her other, she shouldered her backpack. All she had to do was hit the #3 button on her phone to dial it. Once she had Cami in sight, the cops could be here within minutes. Delisi was probably still in the area, circling like a vulture looking for her.
It’d be risky to leave the bike in plain sight, so she pushed it between a waist high patch of weeds and the fence and hoped it’d still be there when she got back. This wasn’t the best area but it’d be a bigger risk to take the spark plug when they might need to leave in a hurry. She left her helmet strapped to the back.
The gate presented an immediate problem. A narrow gap lay between the bars, the chain loose enough she could barely squeeze through. She sucked in her stomach and willed her butt muscles to shrink, and she finally wedged herself through to the other side. One more bag of Reese’s and she’d have to stand out here and yell. Maybe she’d take up jogging when this was all over. Maybe not. Gain hardly seemed worth pain.
Her hair hung damply in her eyes. She felt like a wet sheepdog. The wind didn’t help. It cut easily through Cami’s loose sweater and her cotton tee shirt. She splashed through a puddle, steps echoing eerily, and turned down the first road.
No vehicles were visible. Asphalt stretched empty and narrow between a line of high metal buildings like warehouses. She had cotton-mouth and her palms were sweaty. Not a good trade-off. This could be just a colossal joke, if it weren’t for the fact Cami had sounded terrified. Would Archie go to all this trouble if he wasn’t serious?
She walked all the way to the end, but there was no sign of anyone. She moved to stand by a cargo door, whistling softly to keep up her spirits. And courage. This was really spooky. It grated on her nerves, made her jumpy. Time dragged. She shifted from foot to foot.
“I do believe in spooks, I do believe in spooks,” she muttered in her best Cowardly Lion imitation. All she needed were flying monkeys.
“Hey, dumbass,” someone said behind her, and she whirled around with the can of Mace, “you came in the wrong way.”
Flying monkey, right on cue. Shoulders hunched, a thin, wiry man in a dark slicker stood just a few feet away. Shadows kept her from seeing his face but she knew the voice, recognized that raspy tone. Archie, the infamous nephew. He was alone. So where was Cami?
“You gave me shitty directions,” she said, giving the Mace a brisk shake. Just in case.
“You were supposed to come in off Warford. I been waiting fifteen minutes at the other end before I figured out most women don’t know direction from shit. Toss me that pepper spray or you won’t never see your buddy again. Don’t try to dick me around, girl. I’m in no mood. Did you bring the necklace?”
“I told you I would.” If she Maced him, it’d buy enough time to call in the cops and they could find Cami. She had to be close by in one of these buildings. She shifted to watch Archie. He looked nervous, eyes darting back and forth from her to the end of the road.
“Yeah, I know what you told me. That ain’t what I asked.”
He took a step closer. Rain slicked his face, pooled around his shoes. She should’ve pulled the stun gun out too. Wonder what it’d do if she zapped him? Probably fry him like an egg. That wasn’t completely undesirable. She narrowed her eyes.
“Before I say anything about the necklace, I want to see Cami. You better not have hurt her, you little weasel.”
He acted insulted. “I keep my word. You better do the same.”
She had no idea what she’d do once she saw Cami, or how she’d explain the fact she’d lied like a rug about having the necklace. This would be another one of those things she’d just ride out. Stalling for time seemed the best option for now.
“Now gimme that spray,” he said, and held out his hand, “or we ain’t goin’ nowhere. I don’t need some dumb broad gettin’ all excited and juicin’ me up with that shit.”
There didn’t seem to be a way out of that, but she still had her stun gun. She gave him the spray only when he started getting even more jumpy, then said, “I’m not a broad.”
“Right. Turn around.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Look, turn around and walk, cookie. Or I’ll give you some help.”
“I’ve already got enough motivation, thanks.”
She wondered just how Yogi had gotten mixed up with this guy, but it didn’t seem like the time to ask. She turned around, but only halfway, keeping an eye on him when he gave her a push forward. She unzipped her backpack and felt inside for the stun gun. He stayed close behind.
“Why do I smell barbecue? What’s in your other hand, cupcake?”
“Have you got a food fixation? I’m not your cookie or your cupcake. My name is Harley. I really hope this is the way to where Cami is, because I’m not having a good time.”
“Like I give a damn.”
He reached out to grab her arm and she lurched away, thumbing the button of her phone to dial 911. Archie slammed into her, catching her by surprise, and the cell went flying through the air to land in a puddle. It didn’t go
splash so much as crack! Oh shit.
“What the hell are you doing,” she yelled, and gave him a shove back. He was a wiry little thing, and he smelled like sweat and strong after-shave. It was not a good combination.
Archie erupted in a real hissy fit. Screaming that he’d had enough of her shit and he wasn’t going to take more of this damned crap, he slugged her. It came so quickly she couldn’t avoid it completely. His fist caught her on the side of the jaw. Stars exploded, bells rang, and she went down like a sack of potatoes.
Ten
It was dark and she was wet and cold. Shivering, Harley tried to sit up. For some reason, her arms and legs didn’t work properly. It hurt to even blink. A glass jaw. She’d never make it in a boxing ring. Not that she was tempted. Pain had never been something she ignored.
She wanted to rub her jaw but couldn’t lift her hand. It took a few beats to figure out that the reason for that seemed to involve rope. Her arms and legs were tied at wrists and ankles. She was curled into a fetal position, her knees close to her chest. Archie seemed to be adept with this kind of thing. That didn’t bode well.
It took a few minutes for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. She was on the floor in some kind of office, judging by the metal desk and chairs. A low hum vibrated. Except for that, it was quiet. No sign of Archie, and worse—no sign of Cami. If she wasn’t so damned uncomfortable and worried about Cami, she’d probably be scared shitless.
As it was, growing anger thawed her out enough that her brain started working again. It was stupid and infuriating that a guy too damn lazy to work had endangered her parents, her best friend, and now her. Enough was enough.
She worked herself around until she could sit up. A window in the closed door let in a bit of light from dropped ceiling fixtures high overhead in what looked to be a warehouse. NuVo Rich, no doubt. Archie and Bates. An unholy team. The brother figured in this as well. He had to. Bates had been at Jernigan’s Jewelers, and Archie’s brother Neil worked there as an appraiser. What was still uncertain was how Yogi was connected. There was no doubt of his involvement. If he wasn’t, Archie would never have hidden that necklace in his workshop and risked Yogi finding it.
Hound Dog Blues Page 18