Guilty Photographs

by S I Taylor

  “Okay, please hurry.”

  “I’m on my way,” he told her and hung up.

  First Barbara, now Lori. What is going on?

  He’d known that this job was a mistake, but Barbara hadn’t listened. There was too much at stake to back away and he could understand why she wanted this job, but at what cost?

  She was being chased and he wasn’t able to go to her. He felt useless to her. How could this be happening again? They’d gone over the plan and adhered to the times, but something always had to fuck shit up. Even though they’d gone through every possible scenario, he didn’t want any of it to happen.

  His mind was cloudy, and he couldn’t keep his focus on the drive. A loud horn startled him, and he slowed down. A white car rode next to him.

  “Pay attention to the road, asshole!” the male driver shouted at him as he rode past.

  He had a lot on his mind, but he realized that crashing solved nothing. So he refocused his attention and cleared his mind to get home safely. A lot of people were depending on him and being dead was not an option.

  Chapter 24

  Barbara looked at the rearview mirror and the car was still on her trail far behind. She needed to lose whoever was following her fast.

  She rolled her window, grabbed the few trinkets within reach, and tossed everything one at a time out the window as she sped through the busy traffic on the freeway.

  She was swerving and driving in and out of traffic, going around cars, causing crashes behind her in an attempt to get rid of that dark blue sedan following her.

  The view from the rearview mirror depicted a horrible scene of the aftermath. Cars were crossed in front of each other, traffic came to a halt, people getting out of their vehicles assessing their damages, but the blue car was still behind her.

  She looked ahead, gripping the steering wheel and increasing her speed.

  She passed a state police cruiser, which was probably going to exit to respond to the crashed vehicles behind. “Fuck,” she mumbled and slammed the steering wheel with the back of her hand. The state police cruiser was now hot on her trail from her reckless driving.

  She was swerving around cars and crashing, hitting other cars along the way. Either she got lucky or the state police officer was reassigned to another call—either way she managed to get away from the police, but the sedan was still behind her. The presence of the police cruiser must have caused the driver of the sedan to slow down. It was miles away; she could hardly make it out in the distance until finally she could no longer see it.

  She exited the freeway on the first exit and maneuvered between the vehicles at the red light and made a right turn. She glanced at the rearview mirror and did not notice any new vehicles following her.

  She made a quick left turn into a wide street and entered a gated community.

  “Hey, Tommy, the exterminators are finally here,” a high-pitched young male voice sounded from inside the guards’ shack.

  “Yeah, I came to exterminate the facility,” she said, playing along.

  “I thought you were here for the Fords’ vacant house,” Tommy said.

  “Yes, of course. That’s what I meant. I’ve been working the entire morning and by this time everything seems the same,” she said.

  She glanced at the rearview mirror to make sure she hadn’t been followed. She hoped her sweaty face masked the agitation and worry she was feeling. She didn’t meet David’s eye—as his dull name tag stated—and gave him a forced smile.

  “I know what you mean. I have two other security jobs and get the managers and facilities confused too,” David said. His confirmation meant that she was in the clear and neither Tommy nor David had a clue of the reason why she was really there.

  “Yeah, the life of the hard worker,” she told David. She wanted to hide and grow small and disappear at that moment. She didn’t want to engage in small talk or indulge David or anyone for that matter in any conversation. She wanted to get out of there and deliver the jewels.

  He nodded. He looked at Barbara, checking her out. She grew suspicious and didn’t know if he wanted to ask more questions about her or the job itself. “Hey, you free later?”

  “What?” The sudden question startled her. She was focused on trying to get away and he was interested in her.

  “I mean do you have a boyfriend, are you married or involved with anyone?”

  “No.”

  “So good, let’s exchange numbers.”

  “No, I mean I’m not free and my boyfriend is highly jealous.”

  “A simple cup of coffee would be fine.” He waggled his eyebrows and bile suddenly rose up to reach her throat. They were clearly on two different quests. Barbara couldn’t be rude to him because she needed to get through without being suspected or have them complain to a company which she did not work for and a van that did not belong to the company.

  This was the worst possible time to get into an argument with him and she didn’t want to ruin her chances at going inside the gate. Men are so idiotic at times. They don’t think straight and I’m not sure if that works to my advantage at times or against me. “Believe me, as tempting as that sounds, my very jealous boyfriend sometimes checks up on me while I’m at work.” She wanted to do more than roll her eyes, but kept her composure even though she was annoyed by the banter and its awful timing.

  “Oh, shit. Well, here.” He scribbled something on a piece of paper, kissed it, and handed it to her as he brushed his soft hands against hers.

  She hoped that the repulsion in her face was not as evident as the fake smile she plastered on. She took the paper and crumpled it out of his sight. She made a mental note to throw it away once she got out of the van. “I don’t mean to rush, but there are other cars behind me waiting. Where’s the house?”

  Thankfully she didn’t see the car that had been following her. It seemed that she had lost them. She was in a hurry and David had wasted five minutes of her time.

  He looked behind her and noticed that there were in fact a few cars waiting.

  “Hey, man, I’m sure you want to keep your job. Hurry up and get us moving!” a deep voice shouted from one of the cars in line behind Barbara.

  He waved them to hold on and got back to Barbara.

  “It’s the only house with the missing garage roof. Make a right turn at the intersection and then two lefts and it will be straight ahead,” he said. “Can’t miss it.”

  “Thanks. I’ll resolve the pest problem right away,” she told him.

  “Don’t forget to call me,” he said with a devious smirk.

  She was disgusted at his final remark and wondered if he gave his number to every pretty girl that came through there.

  He entered the guard house, pressed a button, and she sat waiting for the partition to rise enough for her to enter and drive toward her new destination.

  “Make a right, two lefts, and straight ahead,” she mumbled to herself. “There it is, the only house with the missing roof.” The house stood out like a sore thumb. Compared to the other homes, this house needed a lot of work. The color was chipping, the gutters were filled with debris, the grass too high, and the trees needed trimming.

  She parked the van in the driveway and sighed that her encounter with David and Tommy was over. She took a white cloth to clean all the surfaces of her prints. She removed her uniform and changed into her comfortable sneakers, jean, white shirt, and jacket. Barbara grabbed her backpack, locked the doors to the van, and walked toward the back gate.

  She tossed the clothing she was wearing along with David’s crumpled number into the nearby trash bin with the van keys along the way. She reached a tall pointed white gate. The white gate looked like spearheads at the tip of each vertical column. The gate was held together with three equally spaced horizontal rows across it length.

  She looked up at it and swallowed hard. She wasn’t the best of climbers and this gate was not the easiest to climb. But her determination was the thriving force and the need to get
out to Nixon and deliver the jewels were enough to climb it even if it had barbed wires.

  Barbara carefully slipped her backpack one at a time from her shoulders and held it with her left hand still looking up at the gate in front of her.

  She gave herself enough momentum, and tossed the backpack across the gate. It landed with a thud. She looked up once more, said a small prayer, and hiked the tall gate. She jumped to the other side, landing on her side, bruising her shoulder. The loud thrumming of her heart did not interrupt the pain that was creeping from her shoulder. She didn’t have time to worry about pain, so she grabbed her backpack, checked to see that everything was intact, and left at a fast pace through the shrubs.

  That was close, she thought.

  She continued her walk away from the complex through the trees. She felt her feet sink into the soft grass as she took slow steps listening to her surroundings and being vigilant as she walked toward the street ahead.

  A rustling noise ahead startled her. She crept slowly, trying to sneak behind whomever or whatever was making that racket. Her hand slid to her hip and swiftly her Smith and Wesson guided her vision to be ready for whatever was there. The rattling stopped as she got near and a brown puppy wagging its tail leapt into her arms.

  “You scared me, little buddy. You’re lost?”

  A cheerful bark was her response and he licked her face.

  “We’re both on a quest to get out of here,” she told him. She knelt on one knee, placing the gun on the ground, and playfully rubbed the puppy’s belly.

  “Barbara Wolf, you’re under arrest,” a male voice said from behind her.

  “Fuck!” she mumbled, clenching her jaw.

  Chapter 25

  Lori’s call had startled Nixon. He increased his speed a little because although he wanted to get there safely, driving at a slow pace would not get him there fast enough. Did Santino do something other than what was expected? Fuck. His mind was a jumbled mess. Everything so far was not going according to his plans.

  The cars next to him were a blur, along with everything within his sight, and the usual hour-long drive took forty minutes at the very most.

  He parked his car in its usual spot. He fought through the crowd of people, who seemed to be taking life too slowly for his liking. He was on a mission and wanted to make sure that everything went according to his plan. It was bad enough that he still had no news from Barbara and now Lori. It was too much for him at this point to handle. He pushed open the massive crystal-clear door to his building and raced up the stairs to the eighth floor.

  He didn’t have time to catch his breath as he saw the forest-green uniform of a male sheriff who stood outside of his apartment door. Nixon jolted into a quick stop.

  “What happened?” Nixon asked.

  “Oh, Nixon, it was awful.” Lori rushed to his side and he held her tight.

  She was calmer now and had stopped sobbing. But her voice remained frantic.

  “Are you all right? Where’s Reagan?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’m fine. I haven’t picked her up from daycare yet,” she said. “Remember, today is my short workday. I wanted to come home first before I picked her up.”

  “Right. But what happened?” he asked again, scanning the room and the mess in his home.

  Slow tears started to form and trickled down her cheeks as she recounted what happened. “When I got home, everything was chaotic. The table was on the floor, the kitchen cabinets were thrown about the room, chairs were tossed, the bedrooms were searched and clothes were scattered everywhere.”

  “We’ve been robbed?” Nixon said, alarmed, before she could answer.

  He got distracted by a large woman who wore black pants and a black shirt with the sheriff’s logo and held a camera.

  Snap.

  Snap.

  She took pictures of the scene and yet another short male who wore the same attire was putting black dust on the hard surface of the kitchen counter, coffee table, and on several chairs.

  Swish.

  Swish.

  As the man dusted for fingerprints, he was concentrating on his task and didn’t realize that anyone else was there.

  “Hey, is that necessary? My house is already a mess with all this dust now,” Nixon said.

  “Sorry, sir, but I’m doing my job. We will be done shortly,” the investigator said.

  “I thought fingerprints were taken when there was a murder scene?” Nixon asked concerned.

  “Nope, we take them in house break-ins as well, depending on the neighborhood.”

  “Great! Well, the fingerprints you’ll find here will probably be from the people who live here.”

  “Yes, sir, we understand that. This is why we will need your prints as well for comparison.”

  “Well, my four-year-old niece lives here too. Do you need her prints as well?” Nixon asked sarcastically.

  “No, her prints will not be necessary at this time. Just the two of you. If we need hers then we’ll contact you.” Either the investigator was oblivious to Nixon’s sarcasm or he just choose to keep his professional persona. However, his response was borderline rude.

  “It would be stupid of whoever did this not to wear gloves or wipe their prints off. Don’t you think?” Lori said.

  “You’d be surprised by the number of criminals who are desperate and don’t think about that minor detail.”

  The investigator didn’t glance at Nixon once and continued working. Nixon thought about Barbara and hoped she was clever enough in her haste to clean her prints off the van. He also hoped that in his home the only fingerprints that were around were from the people who lived in the house.

  “So do you want to get our prints now or do we have to go to the sheriff’s station for that?” Nixon finally said, breaking the silence and trying to rush them out of his apartment.

  “No need. I have my fingerprint-taking kit right here. As soon as I’m done, I’ll get them from you and the miss.”

  “Cool.” Nixon nodded and he shifted his attention back to Lori.

  “I’m sure they took your computers,” Lori said. “I told the sheriff of everything that they took from the house. I’m not sure what they took from you aside from the computers.”

  “All right, let me talk to them.” He guided her to the table as he placed it upright along with a chair so she could sit. He walked to the deputies, who were standing by the window taking notes.

  “Good afternoon, Deputies, my name is Nixon. I’m the homeowner and my cousin Lori called you to investigate the break-in.”

  “I’m Deputy Sloan and this is my partner Deputy Constantino,” one of them said as Deputy Constantino handed him a business card.

  Nixon inspected the card, vaguely noticing the sheriff’s emblem watermarked behind their slogan on top of the card and the generic list of important numbers for the various departments at the station. As he listened to Deputy Sloan continue, he flipped the card between his fingers.

  “I’ll be the lead investigator in this case,” she said, tucking her small notepad in her uniform front breast pocket right underneath her name tag.

  She looked young to be a deputy, but he guessed that they gave the rookie the jobs the vets didn’t want to work.

  He explained to the deputy everything that he had in his office and the things that were missing as he guided them throughout his office space.

  Nixon was worried and the more he glanced at the investigator taking fingerprint samples from his furniture the more he his mind wandered. I hope he didn’t leave any fingerprints and left with the money. Otherwise, I’ll personally kill him myself, he thought. But that was a piece of information that he omitted from the report.

  “Thank you, Mr. Wright, the completed report will be ready in thirty days,” Deputy Sloan advised.

  He looked at her in disbelief as she turned to face Deputy Constantino. “Why does it take so long?”

  “We have to type the report, conduct investigations, get witness statements, and su
bmit the report for approval, and if there are any discrepancies or missing information we come back or call you to fill in the gaps,” Deputy Constantino said, glancing at Nixon’s fingers still twirling the card.

  “No wonder crime is so prevalent in this town. By the time you finish with one report there’s others piling up,” Nixon said, annoyed.

  “Mr. Wright, we understand your concern and we will work diligently to get the perpetrator or perpetrators, but this takes time. If you want a thorough investigation then those are the procedures,” Deputy Sloan said.

  He nodded. “Understood,” he said.

  “Please excuse my cousin, he’s a little upset. He had his work in those computers and that can hinder his work progress,” Lori said apologetically.

  The two deputies nodded and continued writing in their notepads and comparing notes.

  She turned to Nixon and stared at him, probably stunned at his reaction as this was a side of him she had never seen. Realizing this, he tucked the card in his pockets and walked over to the investigator to give his fingerprint sample. Shortly after, Lori joined Nixon.

  As soon as they gave their sample both deputies made their way to Nixon and Lori as the investigators were packing up to leave.

  “We are done with the preliminary investigations. If you have anything else to add to the report, I left my contact information. And if we need anything from you, we will get in contact with you,” Deputy Constantino said.

  Lori escorted them out and thanked them for their assistance.

  Nixon made his way to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water for him and Lori, relieved that they were finally gone. He had not anticipated their investigation would last so long or be that thorough. He hadn’t had an encounter with the law and the encounter with the university security surely did not constitute a thorough investigation, considering that the incident that happened about four years ago warranted more than just a report and a reprimand. But that was something he did not want to think of. That was in the past and not important to him anymore.

  She walked to the kitchen and sat on the stool by the island as Nixon handed her the water bottle. She took a sip.