Guilty Photographs

by S I Taylor

  “He didn’t tell me anything about that but good thing he gave you that leeway,” she said.

  “Anyway, how was your list?”

  “Nothing good. Every single one of them were either false leads, wrong address given, or are arrested in another state,” she said, deflated. “I can’t believe that I switched the order with you and you still managed to get a lead and action today. Damn my luck.”

  McKinley chuckled. “I tried to help you out,” he teased, “but the lead may not be anything concrete.”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

  “Well, I have four more on my list. Write these addresses down and check them out for me tomorrow. I don’t want to stay behind,” he told her.

  “All right. I’ll update Bush about what we found so far,” she said.

  “Cool, I’m not going to be able to speak to you often, so I’ll text you. I need to get a few things from the car and bring them upstairs before she wakes up and tries something dumb,” he told her, even though he knew Wolf was handcuffed and asleep. He didn’t want to burden Coolidge any further with his suspicions.

  “Fair enough, I’ll text you if I need anything or if Dr. Kincade identifies the naked guy,” she said.

  “Thanks,” he told her.

  “Not a problem. Oh, and McKinley,” she said.

  “Yeah, what’s up?” he asked.

  “Watch your six,” she said.

  This time she sounded different when she said it. She actually meant it, not as a partner but as a friend. He smiled.

  “I will, you too,” he told her as he ended the call.

  Although they’d worked together for several years, this case was bringing them closer. They were becoming more than partners, more than friends, more like family.

  He walked to the car, retrieved some paperwork and his laptop to complete his report, and walked up the stairs to the room.

  She was lying in bed with her wrists cuffed above her head to the bed frame.

  He hadn’t seen this pose in years and it was messing with his head. The image of ripping her clothes off clouded his mind but he suppressed that image as it wasn’t the time and it wasn’t appropriate of him to think that way.

  Carter, get it together. What am I thinking? She’s a suspect and could be the killer. But that doesn’t eliminate the fact that she’s a gorgeous firecracker.

  He’d felt her smooth caramel skin as he cuffed her wrists and touched her soft feet. Her brown eyes and her plump lips complemented her oval face. He looked at her and wished that he had met her under different circumstances.

  She was a fighter, he could tell. Much like him growing up. He’d practically had to raise himself, as his drug-addicted parents were never sober enough to care for him or his sister. His abusive household had been chaotic, and neighbors would call the police all the time. However, after so many distressed calls to police, Child Protective Services got involved and took McKinley from the home a few months after his mother had sold Monroe.

  Those memories he wanted to get rid of. But the notion that Monroe was still out there and that he didn’t know where prevented him from completely forgetting about his past.

  He needed to get these thoughts away from his mind. He walked over to the small desk in the room, turned the lamp on, and typed his report well into the night.

  Chapter 28

  The water that dripped from the bathroom shower jolted her awake. She dreamt about Sam—her childhood best friend, Lana—the girl who took her best friend away and broke her jaw the first day of school, her mother—who lied to her for so many years about her health, and growing up without her father; although she made amends with him, she couldn’t come to terms with why her mother kept him away from her. All of them were meshed into one dream taunting her in different ways. Instead of waking up refreshed and relaxed, she woke up restless and shackled. She was tired of those dreams that were now nightmares. It seemed that they were becoming more frequent than before.

  She was unsure if her nightmare was a better option than to wake up to her terrible reality. The echo from the bathroom brought her back to the dreadful motel room. He must be taking a shower, she thought. She forcefully wiggled her hands and tried to loosen the bed frame, but despite the room being cheap, the bed frame was as sturdy as furniture at the Ritz. She was frustrated and wished she wasn’t in that position so she could take the keys and take off to meet Nixon.

  The shower stopped and she pretended to be asleep. She turned her head slightly toward the bathroom to peek at him. He stepped out of the shower with nothing more than a towel wrapped around his torso, exposing his chiseled abs with a trail of silky black hair that led to his manhood underneath the towel. He had a tattoo of numbers and letters on his chest—0918XX—and she wondered what they meant.

  He walked toward the small desk in the room and when he turned his bare back toward her, she peeked and the image of a large eagle looking down came vividly alive as he moved. Its talons fanned and its wings spanned out, reaching from shoulder to shoulder across his upper back. The eagle looked like it was ready to pounce on its prey. Barbara squinted and forced her eyes to focus and wondered how it must look from up close. She was certain that the details of the piece of art on his back were marvelous and maybe told a story.

  His bulging biceps were amplified as he searched for God knew what through that pile of papers. He must have gotten hurt recently, because there was a large bandage on his upper arm. His forearms were covered with fine hair and she knew he had a tattoo there also but from her position she couldn’t make out the image. His monolid-shaped eyes, his thick brows, and his full lips were captivating to her. What the fuck am I thinking? I’m not becoming another statistic of Stockholm syndrome, she thought. She needed to get these jewels to their final destination before anyone found out about their disappearance. She still had three more days before the delivery deadline, which gave her time to heal and get away from Agent McKinley.

  She was awakened by a persistent shake. She thought she might have dozed off, since she hadn’t slept enough or well for that matter.

  “Wolf, Wolf, wake up!” a male voice said with urgency.

  “For a split second I almost forgot where I was again. How silly of me. I’m up, what do you want?” she said.

  “We need to leave,” he responded.

  “Can I wash up first? And at least stretch for a minute? Lying down in one position for this many hours has stiffened my body,” she told him.

  Barbara saw a sudden glimpse of what she could probably decipher as a look of remorse toward her. And that was a look she didn’t like people feeling for her because she was always a fighter. “Sorry. You’re right,” he said. But somehow coming from him it seemed like an actual apology and that was a reaction she was not expecting.

  He leaned over her again and the scent of his cologne masked the dryness of the cheap motel soap. He removed the cuffs and she felt the onset of her blood flowing slowly back throughout her body.

  They both held a gaze and a new feeling was creeping through her. She felt his warmth and her body nearly gave in to the tingles that her body missed. “Are you going to get up or you want me to push you off?” she said, staring at him.

  “I was about to get up. Jesus, you’re so feisty,” he said.

  Even though her body yearned for his warmth his tone was soft. And she could almost be certain that he felt the same as he looked down at her, his breathing slowing to match hers.

  “This is how I am. Either you deal with it or let me go,” she said. She had to say something to end whatever it was that wanted to start between them. She had to take control of her mind and her body regardless of what it felt right now.

  “Not a chance of letting you go, so I guess I have no other choice than to get comfortable with the feistiness.” His voice was still soft and soothing but she knew that with his answer he was putting up a façade as well.

  She made no attempt to hide the sarcastic roll of her eyes as he casually got
up and walked to the chair.

  Barbara stretched on the bed, relieved to be somewhat free of the restraints. She perched on her elbows and sat on the bed before attempting to stand.

  “You need help?” he asked.

  “No, I’m fine.” She wanted to create as much distance between them as she could because the closer they got the greater the urge she felt to feel him.

  She held on to her surroundings and hopped on her good leg toward the bathroom and once inside she realized that she’d left her backpack on the bed. She hurriedly opened the door and saw him standing in front of her.

  “What are you doing?” Her eyes flew to her backpack and her heart was racing. It was not a feeling of fondness but an adrenaline rush of fear.

  He held her backpack and waved it in front of her. “Do you want me to believe that there’s only feminine products in there?”

  “Yes!” she said quickly. “I keep a lot of my stuff in my backpack for safekeeping. I told you that already.”

  He appeared to think about what Barbara said and it didn’t seem too far-fetched considering the area she lived in. “I was bringing it to you since you left it behind,” he said.

  “I’m sure you need my consent or a warrant to search through my things. Now hand it over.”

  She almost tumbled back when he tossed the backpack to her as she reached for it midflight. But the moment she held it in her arms her heart couldn’t stop pounding in her ears no matter how relieved she felt.

  “You know, for a man you don’t know a lot about women. And as an agent, the most obvious clues lie in front of you, but you either choose to ignore them or you’re just that oblivious.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “That’s for you to figure out, Alpha-836. That’s your job, not mine.”

  She turned and closed the door behind her. “I’m never leaving you out of my sight again,” she whispered to herself as she clutched the backpack tightly against her body.

  Chapter 29

  Instead of moving forward she felt as if she’d moved ten steps backward. When will my luck change? She sat in the back seat, trying to figure out how she was to get away from McKinley.

  The further they drove away from the motel the closer she was to being locked up and her ankle was not helping her situation.

  She was being driven halfway across town in the opposite direction to the meeting point with Nixon. And she was no closer to figuring out how to get out of that mess.

  They were on the freeway. She watched as cars passed her and she wondered about the people in those cars. How their lives were so different from hers. As they were happy, chatty, and singing along to music in their cars, she was miserable and couldn’t catch a break.

  Bam!

  Her head whiplashed as another car violently crashed into the rear of the Cadillac.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Bam!

  Before she could respond she experienced another whiplash as the car collided with them again.

  “Damn. Sort of, what was that?” she asked.

  “It looks like it’s your friends from before,” he said.

  “My friends?” she said, surprised.

  He looked at his rearview mirror and then at the side mirror twice, as if making sure what he saw correlated with what he was about to say. “Yes, the blue car that you mentioned yesterday,” he retorted.

  Damn it, who are they? she thought. She had a long list of enemies and people who wanted her dead, so trying to figure this out would be hard.

  “Hold on,” he said.

  “How can I? I’m still handcuffed,” she told him.

  At least he was nice enough to place the handcuffs in front of her this time.

  “Well, try your best, I’m going to lose them,” he said.

  She braced herself, but her body was being tossed from side to side. Thank goodness for the seat belt. She was thankful she hadn’t eaten yet, otherwise her breakfast would’ve spread everywhere inside the car.

  Tires screeched, horns blew from different directions, and the large contraption swerved from left to right around the morning traffic. It took a great amount of talent and skill to maneuver an SUV through traffic. She’d thought that driving a van through traffic was bad, but this was worse.

  She heard three shots fired, sensing that they barely missed her as more shots barraged the SUV.

  “Get low,” he said.

  She maneuvered out of the seat belt and got tossed on the floor.

  “I can’t. I’m still restrained, remember? Toss me the handcuff keys. I can help you,” she shouted.

  “No!” His voice was firm and loud through all the noise.

  “Stop being stubborn. You can’t shoot and maneuver through traffic at the same time. Give me the keys!”

  “Not a chance. There will be innocent casualties if you miss.”

  “We’ll be casualties if they don’t miss. Besides, the car is directly next to us so the only real casualty will be them.”

  Another car emerged and now there were two cars beside them that crashed into them every second, trying to drive them off the road—the blue car and now a red car. Two men in the red car’s rear passenger started to shoot at their SUV.

  They both ducked at every shot directed at them, causing them to swerve into other cars and out of their lane. McKinley tried to reach for his handheld police radio but it was tossed on the floor “Wolf, get the radio,” he said. But the fall caused the radio to smash open and the battery pack slid underneath the rear passenger seat as Barbara tried to catch it.

  However, that wasn’t the most important item for Barbara, who was focused on getting out from her restraints and saving their lives. “McKinley, toss the keys,” she told him one last time.

  He hesitated. But he fished the keys from his jean pocket.

  “You won’t be able to do it yourself. Come closer. Take the wheel while I remove the cuffs,” he said. He was unsure if that was the smart thing to do. He thought about her words last night and that was probably what caused him to bend a little.

  She crawled toward him, digging her hands into the glass shattered on the carpeted floor. He looked at her with a strict expression, as if telling her if she did anything, he would kill her. She quickly focused her sight on the road and grabbed the steering wheel as he loosened one wrist.

  Bam!

  They were smashed to the right as she jerked the SUV to the left to gain stability.

  “Where’s the gun, McKinley?”

  Again, he hesitated.

  “We don’t have any time to think about it. Give me a gun!” she shouted.

  He had no choice—either she helped him, or they were both going to die.

  “I have my backup Glock in the glove compartment,” he said.

  “When I grab the Glock lower the passenger window,” she told him. Her body jerked forward swiftly toward the glove compartment knob. She saw two guns, one of which she recognized, and decided on the other. “Now!” she shouted.

  She reached for the Glock, aimed, moved rapidly to the right, and released four shots at the red car, aiming toward the driver.

  “Slow down, McKinley!” she yelled.

  She was sure she got the driver but was unsure to what extent she’d damaged him.

  The red car veered to the center lane in front of them and collided with the metal railing in the median. It flipped midair somersaulting like a tumbleweed until it landed across the freeway in the opposite flow of traffic. The large piece of metal resembled an empty crumpled soda can on the road.

  “You just caused another crash,” he said.

  “No, I just saved our lives. Now we have only one car to deal with. Focus on the road.”

  More shots were being fired as she ducked low in the carpeted floor filled with shattered glass.

  The glass penetrated the openings from her torn clothing and now she was a bleeding mess.

  These imbeciles are persistent, she thought. She aimed at the
driver once more, but the SUV hit a pothole, causing the shot to deflect to the right front tire instead. Not a bad shot, but not the one she’d been aiming for. The blue car swerved left and right across the freeway, trying to gain control, but at the speed they were going, the car was controlling them. She looked at McKinley, who wanted to stop to assess the damage, but instead he maintained their speed as they managed to get away.

  “I think we lost them,” he said.

  “There’s no way we’re making it to headquarters. I think someone doesn’t want us to show up there,” she told him.

  “It’s either that or someone wants you dead,” he added.

  She gulped and felt the lump travel slowly down her throat. That wasn’t news to her, but her life had never been threatened before twice in the same week. Who the fuck are they? She clutched her backpack. You’re my ticket out of my misery.

  She shrugged her shoulders and sank into the damaged seat filled with broken window glass.

  “I saw the gun in the glove compartment,” she finally said.

  “Yeah, well, I thought you said it wasn’t your gun.”

  “I didn’t say it was mine. I just mentioned that I saw it.”

  He huffed and she could sense that he didn’t believe her but he had no proof. Damn it, why did I have to mention that?

  “Well, I couldn’t leave it behind in a public area, as you so irresponsibly did. I mean as it was left there irresponsibly.”

  “I didn’t want a bullet to my head if you saw that I grabbed it. Since it isn’t mine,” she reiterated for emphasis.

  He thought about it and she made sense. “Either way, I grabbed it and you’re not getting it back.”

  Barbara sucked her teeth, rolled her eyes, and stared out the window. “Whatever. I’m sure that if it were mine, I wouldn’t be using it where I’m going anyway.”

  He adjusted the rearview mirror and looked at Barbara. “You’re right. But since it’s not yours you have nothing to worry about.” He never slowed down and instead kept driving. He reached for his phone to make a phone call. “This is Agent McKinley. I need to speak to…” He looked at Barbara and continued. “I need to speak to Six.”